Let Him Eat Cake
by gorblimey2
Summary: House keeps receiving cakes from a mystery benefactor.Who's baking them? Who's ordering them? Why?House tracks down the baker stirring something up between them!Why does the baker run hot& cold? Short story for me. Teen in the beginning, M later. 7chps
1. Chapter 1

**LET HIM EAT CAKE**

**Copyright K Brogan2007**

**CHAPTER 1**

**CAKES AND DAGGERS**

Greg House opened the door to his office, already bored. He didn't have a patient and the best he could look forward to was four hours of mind numbing complaints from semi-sick losers in the clinic. He flipped on the light and saw the pink box, it's lid taped slightly open to prevent it from crushing something inside.

In a flash he realized that it was June 11th, his birthday, and this was another anonymous cake. He had received the first mysterious confection last year on his birthday and from that day forward he'd find the ambrosial delicacies on holidays and his birthday. The cakes had been more than delicious and the mystery surrounding them even more intriguing. House chuckled and went to the cabinet to find a plate. He thought back to the scrumptious mystery of the toothsome delights.

After the first cake the year before, he had walked into his office on July 3rd to discover a cake in the shape of a rocket, decorated in red, white and blue, with metallic looking sprinkles coming out of the bottom. Across the rocket was written, Happy July 4th! House hadn't thought anything about the birthday cake he had received the month before. He was pretty sure that Cuddy had sent it. But there was no way she would send a 4th of July cake, it was just too cheesy. And the cake was cheesy, it had an indescribable cheese cake filling that House ate with his eyes closed. When Wilson started to cut a piece, House grabbed Wilson's plate, separated the cake from the filling, scooped up the cheese cake filling on a fork and ate it before Wilson could even protest.

"Why did you buy a 4th of July cake?" Wilson tried to ask between bites. He smiled and slowly shook his head with wonder, "Man, even without the filling this is a great cake."

House shrugged, "It was sitting on my desk with no note, just like the birthday cake.""

"Someone, _a stranger_, sent _that_ to you?"

House turned his palms up and nodded. He knitted his eyebrows and tilted his head, "This is from the same bakery as my birthday cake."

"The one you thought Cuddy sent?"

"Yeah."

Wilson looked down at the pink box but there was no label or advertisement on the box, "How can you tell?"

"The handwriting on the cake is the same."

Wilson chuckled, "How would you know? You ate the handwriting off the last one!"

House pointed to his temple, "Good with details."

"I have to get back to rounds. Great cake." Wilson went over and put the plate and fork in the sink.

"Yeah, well enjoy what you have, no one else is getting any of this."

Wilson squinted his eyes, "House?" He paused and looked at his friend, "Did you ever think someone sent it to you to poison you?"

"Poison me? What– every month I get a dose? There's no poison that works in monthly installments. You either do it gradually on a daily basis or all at once."

Wilson shrugged, "Maybe." He left and went out on rounds.

House looked at the cake, grabbed a sample jar and sent a piece off to the lab to be tested.

There wasn't another pink box until Christmas. House was tired of the Christmas lights, trees and decorations. The Christmas season usually meant one thing – he was alone. Except for the steadfast friendship of Wilson, House felt acutely aware around Christmas time, that he had no one and probably never would.

He noticed the pink box as he swung through the outer doors of the adjacent office where the department whiteboard stood. He looked around. _Who delivered it? Where are they? I was only gone a few minutes to the restroom._ He went through to his office and straight over to his desk to look inside the box . He prayed it wasn't a fruit cake, he detested fruit cakes.

House chortled, the cake was exquisite, a work of art. It was chocolate royal icing on the sides with red and green sugar ribbons. The top was decorated with the smallest, most delicate flowers made of chocolate gum paste and sugar paste. Right in the middle was a sprig of holly, made of sugar and mint. House knew it would taste incredible, but he hated the idea of cutting into the cake and destroying its beauty.

House's team came into the office and looked in the box.

Chris Taub smiled, "Wow, that is gorgeous. Who's it for?"

House wrinkled his forehead, "_Not you!_ It's mine, _all mine._"

Cuddy had joined them and was staring into the box along with everyone else. "You're going to eat that all by yourself? That's a large cake! It's absolutely beautiful, what's it for?"

Wilson had seen the crowd and made his way inside to look in the box. "Whoa. They really out did themselves this time. Any ideas who sent it?"

House shook his head.

Cuddy smirked, "Someone sent _you_ this cake and you don't know who or why?"

Wilson volunteered, "He gets them for his birthday and the occasional holiday."

Cuddy cocked her head, "You're joking aren't you? Someone sends you _nice_ things? It must be poisoned."

House scowled at her, "You know, I do save lots of lives. Did you think that someone might be grateful? In fact, you might be grateful for that night a few years ago. Do you send them?"

She burst out laughing, "Oh God, you must be joking. It wasn't _that_ memorable...that is if there was a night a few years ago." She shook her head and laughed all the way out the door.

Chris asked, "You really don't know who keeps sending you cakes?"

Again House shook his head.

Wilson went into the outside office and pulled down several plates and forks. House pounced on him, 'Who said I was sharing?"

Wilson smirked and knitted his brows, "You can't eat that entire cake by yourself, it's enormous! Look, we'll cut it in half and you can take half home, that's still more than you need."

House stopped to think. Everyone was staring at him. It was a huge cake and would probably go bad before he could eat it all. But he just hated the thought of cutting into it. It was beautiful.

He looked around at all the eager faces. Cuddy came back in when she saw Wilson holding plates. "He's going to share?"

Wilson shrugged.

She looked at Wilson. He was standing poised, ready to carve the delicacy into slices for the hungry hoard, "I can understand, a cake like that costs at least $100, probably more. There's only a few places in town that can make them like that."

House turned quickly to confront her, "Really? Do you know which ones they are?"

A slow smile spread across her lips, "You want to track down the person who's sending them, don't you? I tell you what, I'll give you the names of the bakeries that make quality cakes if you share."

House winced, stood still for a minute and then nodded. Wilson cut the cake in half and everyone oohed and ahed. Inside were four ribbons of fillings, including cream cheese, chocolate fudge, chocolate mousse and bittersweet fudge. Wilson passed out the pieces to everyone. Wilson was smart enought to make sure that House received the first, large, piece. The whole room went quiet as they ate. No one dared interrupt the commune they each had with their taste buds.

Cuddy finally looked up. "I have one more requirement before I give up the names."

"You can't go back on the deal." House yelled like a child.

"I just want to know who baked this cake. When you find out, you have to tell me," she sighed, eating each bite like it was the last time she would taste anything as exquisite.

Wilson smiled, "I want to know too; so I can convince her to marry me."

House snickered, "Dude most pastry chefs are men."

Wilson shook his head, "This was made by a woman. Trust me. It's the textures, there are several textures combined together that a man wouldn't even think to combine."

House laughed, "You are so gay."

Wilson snarled back.

Chris couldn't hold back, "This is the best cake I've ever seen or eaten."

House didn't change expressions, "Yeah, well when you find out where the clitoris is, you might get cakes too."

They all laughed, but quickly returned to eating the cake. House had to agree, the cake exceeded all expectations.

Christmas came and went. Cuddy gave House the names of three bakeries, but House was lazy and didn't follow up, not even on Valentine's day when he received a single red rose in a long pink box. The rose was sculpted out of the finest Belgian chocolate. There was no card.

And now House was standing in front of another birthday cake. It was in the shape of a grand piano with a deep, deep mocha chocolate frosting and sugar paste for the ivories. House was impressed. This person knew enough about him to know he played piano. House reached in the desk and took out the list of bakeries. It was time to find out who was sending the cakes.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2 **

**THE GLASS SLIPPER**

House pulled up into the parking lot of George's Bakery and got out. It was a rather small shop, freshly painted, clean inside with delicate aromas of yeast and sugar. He saw a refrigerated display case and rambled over to inspect it. The cakes inside were beautiful, but there was nothing the equivalent of what he had been receiving.

He pushed his way up front to the counter, "Step aside, cripple. Cripple." He took off his sunglasses and looked into the eyes of the woman behind the counter. She was a gorgeous brunette, green eyes and olive skin. He was hoping beyond hope that she was the mysterious baker. He gave her a cheap smile, "Do you guys sell Piano cakes?"

She furred her brow and tilted her head, "Piano cakes? As in one to put on a piano, one in the shape of a piano or ...what???"

He looked at her, realizing she had no clue what he was talking about, "In the shape of a piano with glossy frosting, white sugar keys? You know, a piano?" He glanced briefly behind him at all the waiting people, "Have you had any orders for a cake that looks like a piano lately?"

She smiled suggestively at him, "No pianos that I know of."

House looked at her name tag, "Sheila, are you only one who takes the orders?"

Sheila looked disappointed, "No, there's three of us."

"Can you look at the orders in the last month to see if there was an order for a Piano?"

Sheila noticed everyone standing in line, "Not right now. Come back around 2:00 pm when it's slower. Sorry." She gave House a very sensual and inviting smile and then turned to the woman behind him, "Can I help you?"

House banged his palm on the counter, "Hey! I need to find the person who ordered that cake, I'm a doctor and they may be sick from the cake."

Everyone in line started talking, worried about tainted pastries. A couple of customers left the bakery. Sheila turned and went over to the computer. House looked at the inviting chocolate chip cookies and started salivating, realizing he was hungry. A few minutes later Sheila came back over to House. "There's no order in the last month for a piano cake. Now, unless there's something else you need, I'm going to help the next person in line."

House smirked and turned around. He left the bakery and then stamped his cane in frustration; he had forgotten to buy some cookies. House thought about going back inside and apologizing to Sheila, ordering some cookies, and asking her out. But he looked at the line and decided against it. He'd get something at the next bakery and call her later.

It was a Saturday and he quickly realized that bakeries are busy on Saturday mornings. People are picking up cakes for parties, buying pastries for Sunday brunch and ordering their kid's birthday cakes. House looked at the line at Han's & Harry's Bakery and decided to get into the coffee line over on the side of the adjoining cafe instead. It was shorter. You couldn't order or pick up orders in the cafe, but you could buy coffee and pastries and sit on little bistro seats to eat.

The very young girl in the white cap asked for his order, "Welcome to Han's and Harry's, can I take your order sir?"

"Brazilian Latte and a strawberry croissant." House said, fiddling with his wallet. "Oh, by the way, my Piano cake order was screwed up."

"Piano cake?" She smiled vacuously.

"Yes, it was delivered on June 11th at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital, but it was collapsed on one side." He said as a matter of fact, hoping she'd take the bait.

"If there's a problem with the order you need to get in that line."

House gave her his sensual smile and flashed his blue eyes, "Oh, come on. You wouldn't make a cripple stand in that line would you?"

She looked over the counter at his cane and then shifted her weight as she thought about it. "Just a second sir." She left and came back a few minutes later, "I'm sorry sir, but Hans makes all our odd shaped specialty cakes and he says he hasn't had an order for a Piano Cake. He said to try George's Bakery or Darling Cakes and Pastries."

House grabbed the latte and croissant she handed him. He had to admit there was a familiar flavor to the strawberry cream inside the croissant. He was very suspicious. He looked around and saw a few of the cakes that had been ordered in a nearby refrigerated display. The handwriting was different on each one, which meant they had several bakers. He didn't see one that had the same English Script as his, but then there were only four cakes in the case with handwriting. He'd check the other bakery and come back.

House was frustrated. He felt like the Prince looking for Cinderella. He only had one more bakery. The bakery he saved for last was closest to his apartment. He pulled into the little parking lot and grabbed one of the handicapped spots. House saw that the bakery was similar to Han's & Harry's. It had two sections, one for orders and pickups, the other for coffee and pastries that could be eaten at the café tables and couches which lined the east side of the bakery. It reminded him of a friendlier Starbucks, not so corporate. The sign said that the wifi was free, a real plus to bring in the students and business men. Several students, unshaven and bedraggled, sat throughout the café area. House saw that the line for orders was handled much more efficiently in this bakery. Those with just pickups could go to a side sign and pick up their order. House got in the pickup line.

While he was in line he could see that the cakes were just as ornate as the other bakeries, some prettier, some not as pretty. House watched as the counter help brought cakes out with writing. He also noticed that some of the cakes had writing added at the counter. None of the writing looked familiar.

"Yes sir?"

"I was told to pick up the Piano cake for Dr. Gregory House, Princeton Plainsboro Hospital."

"Do you have a ticket sir?"

He shook his head no, "Can you look it up?"

"Just a minute sir." The older gray haired woman in granny glasses looked in the refrigerator and then in the wood box with little sheets of paper, probably the orders. She came back, puzzled, "Did you order it, or could it be under someone else's name?"

"I'm just here to pick it up. It was suppose to be delivered a few days ago, but wasn't."

"Are you sure it wasn't ordered at George's or Han's & Harry's?"

"No, it was Darling Cakes and Pastries." He smiled at her.

"Well sir, if you'll wait here a minute, I'll go in the back and check with the bakers." She turned to a young Hispanic woman, "Lucia, can you help the others in line?" Once Lucia came forward to assist the others in line behind him, the older woman went into the back. Within a few minutes she came out followed by another, very pretty woman, late thirty-ish who was wiping her hands on her apron.

House watched the honey-blonde woman blow a strand of straggling hair out of her face. She had some flour on the tip of her petite, slightly upturned nose. Her uniform was a German-type peasant blouse that showed off her collar bones and just a small glimpse of cleavage. It was tucked into a black skirt with apron. She wore black nurses shoes.

She smiled broadly, too broadly. It was one of those smiles given to customers to calm them in the face of bad news. "Gilda says that we don't have your piano cake. I'm sorry sir, but I don't remember an order for a Piano cake. I hope we haven't spoiled your event. We can give you one of our 'take and go' cakes and try to customize it. I'd only charge you the 'take and go' price."

House thought about it, "But how do you know that it wasn't ordered?"

She chuckled, "I'm the owner, Mercy Darling, and I'd know. I do the custom cakes and a Piano cake would probably be custom, or at least the other bakers would ask me if I wanted to do it." She looked calmly into his face and smiled again; this time it was genuine. "Can I do something for you?"

House started laughing, "Mercy – Darling? Mercy – Darling? Your parents had a wicked sense of humor."

Her smile dropped and an eyebrow went up. She turned abruptly and went back through the doors into the kitchen. House shrugged and left, smiling to himself. He had struck out. _Maybe it wasn't one of these bakeries._

House went home and thought about Sheila. He thought about her green eyes and long brunette hair. He liked the dark and sultry ones best. House looked up the bakery's number in the phone book, but just as he was about to pick up the receiver to call Sheila, the phone rang.

"Yeah?"

"House, we just got in a 34 year old male that Cuddy says is one of your former patients and she wants you to come down to look at him." Larry said.

"Who?"

"Max Dawson."

House rolled his eyes to himself, "Yeah, I'll be in."

It wasn't until July 2nd that House thought about the pink box and Sheila again. It was Wilson who triggered his thoughts.

"I'll pick you up for the casinos tomorrow night. We're booked at Harrahs. Hey shouldn't you be getting a cake soon? July 4th is Wednesday."

House cocked his head, "Tomorrow..." He smiled to himself. "What time are you getting in tomorrow?"

"About 7:30 am, so I can leave early. Why?" Wilson asked.

"Good, I'll be here too. I'm going to camp out in your office and watch to see who leaves the cake!"

Wilson blinked a few times, "You mean you still haven't figured it out Sherlock?"

House sneered at him and walked away. He arrived at 7:30 am with Wilson, only to discover that the cake was waiting for him. "Crap, I got up for this?"

House tried to remain angry and disturbed, but the delicious coconut cake in the shape and colors of the flag, took the sting out of his failed attempt to nab the delivery person.

House had several patients over the next few weeks, making it difficult for him to follow up on the cake mystery. On one Friday, he dragged his butt out of bed and into the shower where he tried to imagine Sheila without clothing and lying on his bed. He smiled when his little friend didn't disappoint him. I've still got it in me! After experiencing some relief, House cleaned up and went to work.

As he entered the hospital, he saw Wilson talking to a nurse. House walked up to him just as the nurse left, "She's a little old for you, isn't she? I think she has a driver's license."

"I was just giving her tips on the best neighborhoods to rent an apartment."

"Speaking of renting an apartment, when are you renting one?" House asked.

Wilson chortled, "Why should I? I get clean sheets and someone to pick up after me every day."

"Yeah, but don't you think it was time you learned to change your own diapers?"

"If you must know, I found an apartment, but it won't be ready until the beginning of the month."

"Congratulations! Now if we could just teach you how to tie your shoes and wipe your nose, we could let you out on your own."

Wilson turned to House, "I was going to invite you to the housewarming. But 'house-warming' simply sounds like an oxymoron. Now, why are you here? What do you want?"

"Simply to be the best that I can be, because I'm an Army of one you see."

Wilson shook his head in puzzlement as he opened a chart. He looked up at House who batted his eyes at Wilson. Cuddy walked up to the two of them, one hand on her hip and the other wagging her finger.

"I expect you two at the annual reception today for new doctors. I'm going to assign each of you an intern too, so no moaning – no groaning. Don't be late, it's at 4:00 pm in the conference room."

House looked bored, "Any new female doctors that aren't butter?"

Cuddy knew she would regret asking, "Butter?"

"Yeah, nice body...'but-her' face is ugly."

Cuddy sighed, "Four o'clock, be there." She left in a huff sending House and Wilson into snickers of laughter.

"I heard that one of them was worth going to this reception to meet. She's a stunning redhead with legs that don't stop. And she's a sex therapist," Wilson announced.

House lifted his eyebrows and then grinned. "Good looking and knows the importance of fellatio?–" he looked up to heaven, "-- Oh, thank you God! If there is one."

They walked up to the third floor to their offices. All afternoon House thought about the sex therapist. He wanted to beat Wilson to the punch, so at 3:55 pm he made his way to the conference room. Standing next to the appetizers was a luscious red head. House smiled, his blood pressure raising as he poised to go in for the kill. He bent over the trays of food pretending to have a hard time selecting one of the canapes. He was standing close to her as she poured some coffee.

He turned his head to look up into her eyes. With his blue eyes crinkling from the sexy smile he was giving her, he asked in the calmest, warmest voice he could muster, "Any suggestions?"

She smiled back, looking at his cane, "You must be Dr. House."

House stood back up and twisted his head slightly to the left. With narrowed, questioning eyes he asked, "How did you know?"

"I had lunch with Dr. Wilson and he told me all about your problem."

House gazed around for Wilson, "What problem?"

She grimaced and whispered, "He told me that even the Cialis he prescribed for you isn't working. I told him that it might be the fact that you use so many hookers. You should focus on trying to develop a relationship first. It may be that you need an emotional connection before you can consummate the act. Or, you might just be having a crisis of self-confidence if it goes limp during performance. You know, many men with small penises find that they have problems because of the emphasis the porn magazines and movies place on having a big one. You really shouldn't let your size be a problem. Most of the nerve endings in the vagina are within the first few inches of the vagina's entrance anyway."

House's nostrils flared and his eyes formed two slits, "Where is that hack?" House looked around and yelled, "Wilson!" But he couldn't see him.

"Oh, don't blame Jim, he's really worried about you. We're going out to dinner tomorrow night just to discuss your little problem. Oh, excuse me. I didn't mean "little" problem, I meant sexual dysfunction." She watched as House continued to look around the room, she snapped, "Oh, I should have introduced myself, I'm Dr. Debbie Kennedy. I'm a sex therapist." She stuck her hand out, but he ignored it and walked away.

House spotted Wilson by the desert table. He hobbled up to him and stabbed his foot with his cane. "Erectile dysfunction? Bend over dear, my little guy with the hole in his head wants to say hello."

Wilson smirked, "You met Debbie?"

House nodded, "You told her I had a small..." House stopped, looked down at the cake and saw a perfect five layer replica of PPTH with, 'Welcome to PPTH', handwritten on top in strawberry glacé. House forgot about Wilson and looked for Cuddy. He spotted her with several male doctors, each smiling and laughing at something she said.

Cuddy looked at the approaching House, his face serious and somewhat flustered. She winced, "Well, gentlemen, you're about to meet the man himself. House, what do you want?"

House looked at the young faces all riveted on him, "I just wanted to make sure they knew about your genital warts before they thought they might get lucky."

Cuddy clenched her teeth and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away and almost off balance, "You know, that crap is getting old."

House looked liked a contrite teenager, "I just want to know where you got the cake?"

"The cake? You mean the PPTH cake?"

"What other cake would there be?"

She realized he was right, there was only one cake in the room. "I had Darling Cakes and Pastries provide the deserts today. Why? Is this still about those cakes you get? I gave you their name and number."

"You're sure? Who makes them for you?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. But I always call them into Mercy Darling personally."

House started laughing again.

Cuddy didn't get it, "What?"

"Mercy Darling. Her parents must have hated her."

"It's the family name from what I understand."

House smiled. At least something was going right.


	3. Chapter 2 Part 2

The urgency of finding the cake baker died in light of the hospital audit. House had to provide backup for several of his many expensive tests, requiring his whole team to piece the report together over the following three weeks. August had been hot, really hot. There had been rolling blackouts in New Jersey, causing the air conditioning in the apartment to be sporadic. House woke up early one Saturday morning from the heat and the pain in his leg. He reluctantly reached for the golden brown bottle. He had been trying to cut back; his liver enzymes were elevated. But the pain was bad, really bad; he popped a Vicodin. House tried to go back to sleep, daydreaming, wondering about his cakes and the mystery benefactor. He realized he wasn't going to get back to sleep so he dragged his butt out of bed, brushed his teeth, took a shower and dressed. It was already a very warm, sticky morning. House decided to wear some cargo shorts and a t-shirt with a short sleeved Hawaiian shirt over it. He looked into the mirror and realized he was looking a little bloodshot from drinking so much the night before at the jazz club. He took another Vicodin and grabbed his keys.

It was only 6:20 am and House wondered if it would be open. _It's a bakery, bakeries open early. They need to feed the police. I need to get there early, before the soccer moms get there to pick up their cakes._

But the bakery wasn't a donut shop, the little sign on the door said it was scheduled to open at 7:30 am. House plastered his face against the window and gazed into the dark store. He could smell something baking, like bread. He walked into the alley behind the bakery and saw that the back door was open except for the screen door. House looked in and saw her; Mercy Darling was the only person in the kitchen. He opened the door quietly. _Damn if I was mugger or a rapist, she'd be dead meat._

He stared at her. She was bent over the stainless steel table kneading the dough over and over. He watched the muscles in her arms flex with definition as she pushed and pulled at the large slab of dough on the table. He could see the shape of the top of her breasts as she bent over. They glistened with a thin sheen of sweat from the heat of the morning and the energy she was putting into the act of kneading the dough.

Her golden hair was up on top of her head with tendrils coming down her neck. She was thin and elegant, gorgeous and extremely sexy in the light coming through the screen door. House wished he could lick the tiny shimmer of sweat off of her breasts. He was sure that it would be salty, even earthy tasting. The flour on her hands and cheeks made her even more inviting. He must have stood there and watched for several minutes before realizing that things were stirring in his trousers every time she bent over.

She finally stood, her eyes closed, the back of her hand up to her forehead to push back a strand of stray hair. She blew out, exhaling from the heat and then quietly opened her eyes. She jerked back and put a hand to her chest.

"Jesus! You scared me."

House smirked, "I could have been a robber, you should lock this door."

"I've been baking for a long time and this is the first time someone has entered through my screen door without knocking. What is it that I can do for you?"

He walked over towards her. She took a step back and cocked her head. "I'll ask again, what can I do for you?"

He was about five feet away. He leaned forward on his cane, "Stop lying."

She looked amused, but said nothing.

"I know you made the Piano Cake and the other ones."

She smirked, "You do?"

"Yes, I know your handwriting. Don't insult me by pretending you didn't."

She squinted her eyes, "What do you expect from me?" She examined him. He wasn't her cup of tea. She liked Italian looking men, but she did think he was good looking, his blue eyes being the features that stood out the most.

His voice softened, "I just want to know who keeps ordering the cakes?"

She smiled as she wiped her hands on a tea towel. She grabbed a rolling pin and began to roll out the dough. "I'm sorry, is it Dr. House?"

He knew that she knew his name so he didn't bother to answer.

She grinned, "My customer wants to remain anonymous and they shall. Sorry."

House once again had a view of her lovely breasts as they dangled and almost tipped out of her bra. He continued to watch them, even when she looked up.

"Dr. House, you're staring at my breasts. Would you mind leaving now?"

He smiled at her, "You can't fault me for admiring a thing of beauty can you? Besides, I was just thinking that I need to pick up some milk on the way home. I'll go when you tell me who's sending me cakes."

She threw her head back and laughed, "You're very funny. What are you going to do? Beat me with your cane, tickle me into submission, buy my information?"

He smiled. She had a point. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll just be your worst nightmare, I have ways of making people suffer."

"Something tells me that you can follow through on that threat. Just know, I don't scare easily." She put down the rolling pin and stared at him. "But, while you're here, come with me."

She walked over to a cooling table with racks behind it. There were numerous pastries, pies and strudels. She picked up a small pastry and, as he walked up, she held it up to the level of his mouth. Her mouth opened just slightly, an unconscious reaction to anticipating his bite. She gingerly placed it between his lips for him to bite. His eyes locked with hers and for a second he felt like he did just before penetrating a woman, excited with anticipation. She smiled as he closed his eyes and bit down. He chewed for a few seconds and then looked again at her. She was smiling and waiting for him to say something. He didn't say anything, he simply leaned forward and took another bite from the pastry she was still holding up.

The room was silent except for the hum of the dishwasher. The heat from the outside wasn't what was making him glisten, it was the sensual feeling of having her feed him what had to be the most delicious treat he had ever had. The entire action of eating it had been an overwhelming assault on his senses. Her body close to him was intoxicating, making him a little off balanced. Then the smell took over. It was a mixture of chocolate and alcohol rushing up his nostrils. The first taste to bombard his buds was the deep, bittersweet chocolate, followed by the warmth of the bourbon liquid inside. Just when he thought the epicurean assault on his taste buds was over, the deep nutty flavor of the pecans took over.

"It's my chocolate bourbon tart. Do you like it? It's a new recipe, you're the first to try it."

He took the tart from her hand and held it up to her mouth, letting her take a bite from his hand. She balked at first, but he narrowed his eyes and gave her a devilish grin; she chuckled. Mercy leaned forward, closed her eyes as if she was going to kiss a man and took a bite. House had an urge to step forward, kiss her bourbon covered lips and fondle her breasts through her flour covered peasant blouse. He took a step forward just as she opened her eyes.

They flew wide open as she realized he had moved closer, she stepped several steps back and gave him a playful look. "You better be careful Dr. House, I just needed a taste tester, nothing more."

The screen door opened and two women walked in, surprised that a stranger was in the kitchen. "Mercy, are you alright?"

She looked over at them and then back at House, "Yes, Dr. House was just leaving. Thank you Dr. House for tasting that tart and giving me your opinion."

He walked up to her, bent down and whispered in her ear, "Just give me the name and I'll be out of your life."

She whispered back, "Are you sure that's really what you want?" She looked into his eyes, grinned and walked away.

House wasn't sure it was what he wanted. One thing for sure, House thought that bakeries had some of the sweetest booty in Princeton! He watched her walk into the bathroom and close the door. He turned, playfully smiled at the two women putting their aprons on and shrugged his shoulders. House wore that smile all the way home.

"May I speak to Sheila?" House waited as they went to get Sheila. Through the receiver he could hear someone call her name.

"Hello?" The female voice sounded somewhat suspicious.

"Hello, this is Dr. Gregory House, I met you a few days ago at the bakery. I was the handsome blue-eyed guy searching for a Piano cake." _They always remember the eyes and the cane._

She giggled, "I remember! That wasn't a few days, it was well over a month ago. What took you so long to call?"

"I couldn't find a quarter."

"Cute. I was wondering when you'd call. When you didn't I was disappointed."

"Would you like to go out to dinner on Friday?"

"Not Friday, I have plans. What about Saturday? I'm suppose to go to a friend's show at an art gallery, we could have dinner and go after that."

He nodded to himself, "Give me your address and I'll pick you up at 7:00 pm."

They exchanged information and House hung up. He was looking forward to the long Labor day weekend and the thought of spending some quality time with the green eyed brunette and the legs that didn't stop.

He pulled into PPTH and grabbed the four charts that administration had copied for him and his team. When he reached the outer office, he threw the charts on the table in front of the team. He spotted the pink box on the counter. He almost ran over to it. He opened it up and was disappointed to see it was only donuts and eclairs from a local donut shop.

Sulking, he turned and looked at Chris Taub, indicating to him that he should give them the patient's background.

Taub cleared his throat, "64-year-old man with a history of coronary artery disease and peripheral vascular disease admitted to the hospital with a several-month history of fevers, chills, and fatigue. These symptoms began soon after he had undergone percutaneous coronary intervention with placement of a stent in the left anterior descending coronary artery 10 months ago. His white-cell count and echocardiogram were normal. A white-cell whole-body scan did not have signs to suggest an active infection. Blood cultures were positive and remain positive despite antibiotic treatment.

The team, consisting of Chris, Larry & Remy, all suggested possible illnesses and tests. House sent them out to do their respective tests before making his way to Wilson's office.

He threw open Wilson's door and found Wilson charting. In a deep stage voice, House started to sing, "I'm in the mood for love, just because you're near me!"

Wilson placed the pen down carefully and moaned, "House, I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm not in the mood for love _or you!"_

House plopped down into the chair in front of the desk, "Just because your last date suggested that you should 'just cuddle' doesn't mean you can't have a fulfilling sex life, I'm sure they have surgery to fix your shortcomings."

"I'm trying to get these charts done so I can take the whole Labor Day weekend off. I want a break."

"You're no fun."

"Let me complete my charting and I promise to be Robin Williams."

"Coked up Robin or post-coke Robin?"

Wilson pointed to the door, "_Get!!!"_

House left and went back to his office to look at restaurant menus online. He decided he felt like steaks, so he decided to take Sheila to the Fuji Japanese Steakhouse, which meant that he could drink some sake too. He called and made a reservation for 7:30 pm Saturday. With that done, House turned to play his new computer game, _Enemy Territory - Quake Wars_.

The team trickled in one at a time and gave him results of their tests. House looked at the results, noting that the tests for the normal pathogens were negative. When he had his epiphany, he was disappointed; it was too easy. The reason the patient hadn't been diagnosed was that most hospitals and doctors don't think about testing for Group C Strep. It's an uncommon pathogen in humans. But occasionally endovascular infections occur in heart patients, resulting from a Group C Strep. It's often introduced during surgery. The infection can be extremely resistant to antibiotics.

"Check him for Group C Strep...it's probably something to do with his stent. Do an exploratory laparotomy. I have a feeling that it will reveal an aortoenteric fistula which is probably the source of the infection."

In mid-afternoon, they came back and confirmed his diagnosis. Surgery was scheduled to remove the source of the infection. Antibiotics, more efficient ones, would be prescribed and the patient cured. His job was done...again.

House was bored, it was 4:30 pm. He went to check on Wilson. He opened the door, but Wilson didn't even look up.

Wilson put a hand up to stop him, "Why don't we meet up at Triumph in an hour? I'll be done by then."

"An hour...no more." House insisted.

Wilson waved his hand without acknowledging him.

House grabbed his stuff and took off for the restaurant. He found a seat at the bar and gave the bartender a nod of greeting. The bartender pulled the Talisker Whiskey off the top shelf and poured a glass, grabbed a cocktail napkin and placed it in front of House. House handed him the American Express Card and said, "Start a tab until Wilson gets here, then close it out."

Phil Manken was used to this. Dr. House had only picked up Dr. Watson's tab once in all the time that Phil had waited on them. Phil was shocked when House paid until he realized it was a fluke. Drs. House and Wilson had been entertaining women at a table. Dr. Wilson was the lucky one, managing to convince his pick-up to go home with him, leaving Dr. House with the willing, but less attractive one to deal with. Even when Dr. Wilson sent a phoney page to House so House could dodge the woman, House didn't use it. He simply said, "If I take you home, I'd have to bag you. And it's just not the same getting head from a paper bag." It was no surprise that a Chloe handbag flew through the air, connecting with his head and knocking him off the stool. She huffed out the door. He got up, shrugged, paid the bill, including Dr. Wilson's, then left. Phil hadn't seen House pay Wilson's tab since.

An hour later Wilson joined him at the bar, looking at House with satisfaction and said, "Done! I'm caught up. Once I finish tomorrow, I won't have to go in until Tuesday. I'm all unpacked in my new place and have no commitments this weekend."

"That's right, no hotel rooms. It means you'll have to change your own toilet roll...crap!"

"Gee, I'm laughing, ha-ha." He took off his suit jacket and undid his tie, "You were in a good mood today, did Cuddy give you time off from clinic?"

"I've got a date Saturday night with a bakery babe."

Wilson took a drink of the gin and tonic Phil had automatically put in front of him, "The woman making you cakes agreed to go out with you?"

"No. The one making me cakes is a blonde. This bakery babe is a sultry brunette, green eyes, almost as tall as you and breasts like small cantaloupes."

"I don't like cantaloupe." Wilson said.

"Okay...as large as a huge Easter Egg."

Wilson considered it, "I like Easter Eggs. Can I have one?"

"I'm not sharing her! Get your own young, voluptuous brunette bakery babe."

"So, did you ever find the woman or man ordering your cakes?"

House turned slightly to Wilson, "I found the baker, but she won't tell me who orders them. She considers it a trade secret."

Wilson eyes flashed in surprise, "And you bought that without throwing a fit or threatening her?"

"I couldn't help it. She put a spell on me with a bourbon tart."

Wilson knitted his brows, "So she looks and acts like a witch?"

"No you moron. She's hot, _too old_, but hot. She plied me with pastries to make me forget what I wanted."

"And it worked?"

"I didn't get the name of my benefactor, if that's what you mean. But, I still know who makes the cakes! The information will be mine, _all mine! Mwhahahaha._" House gave a maniacal laugh.

"You've been a busy boy. So where are you going with the hot brunette?"

"Dinner and some lame gallery show of her friends."

"Oh please tell me you aren't going to the Flannery Opening?"

**Chapter 2 Part 2**

House smiled, "Is it at the Perlman Gallery?"

Wilson closed his eyes and nodded, "I've had tickets to this opening for two months. How did you get them?"

"I didn't, she's friends with the artist."

Wilson was impressed, "Really? That should be interesting. Well, I guess I'll see you there."

"Wait. You said, 'tickets'...as in _plural_. Who are you taking?"

"Cuddy."

House was smiling like Jack Nicholson in the Shining, "You and Cuddy?"

Wilson rolled his eyes, "She's a friend, she's lonely and she likes art. We went to an art exhibition before and had a good time. I thought she might enjoy this."

House chuckled and drank his whiskey.


	4. Chapter 3Part 1

**CHAPTER 3 **

**THE RECLINING NUDE**

House wore his navy blue microfiber slacks, a light blue shirt and a tan sports coat. He trimmed his beard and splashed on just enough Safari cologne to give him a faint, but pleasant smell. He opted for the black cane with the silver head as his companion for the evening. By 7:00pm House was knocking on Sheila's door. She opened it, standing in a red latex dress with thin, almost spaghetti, straps. House gave her an appreciative smile, "Wow. Is that dress sprayed on?"

She smiled back, her green eyes twinkling, "Yes, you see I'm really nude and the dress is just a painted illusion. Are you ready for dinner?"

"I say we go to Home Depot for paint remover."

She giggled, "You're funny. Are you ready to go?"

He held out his arm to indicate for her to walk in front of him. They walked to his car, House stealing a good look at the long back and Jennifer Lopez butt that Sheila sported. They talked through dinner, exchanging the requisite information that people on first dates exchange. He was forced to talk about Stacy, while she discussed her last boyfriend.

House noticed that Sheila didn't use her good looks to their full potential. She didn't have a real appreciation of just how sexy her body was or could be. He felt that someone like Stacy or Cuddy had more sex appeal because they believed they were sexy. They were self-assured. Being self-assured was sexy in itself. But being self-assured usually came with age. House sensed that Sheila's facade of sensuality was just that, a facade. She didn't believe it deep down. She dressed like she believed it, moved like she believed it, but it was the self-conscious looks in mirrors and windows and the superficial worry about minutia that gave her doubtful nature away.

They finished dinner and, although House enjoyed talking to Sheila about economics and the Masters program she was in, they had very little in common. He did pick up plenty of signals that the evening would be successful in one area. It had been a few months since House had shared a bed with a woman, so he was looking forward to the evening ending well.

They arrived at the Gallery and started walking up the steps to go inside when House heard a voice behind him, "House! Wait up." House and Sheila turned to see Wilson and Cuddy scurrying to join them.

Cuddy eyed the young Sheila and chuckled to Wilson, "She's so young, what is it with him? You'd think he'd learn, the best relationship he ever had was with Stacey and she was a couple years older than him."

"What can I say? It's House."

They saddled up next to House and Sheila. Wilson smiled, not waiting for House to make introductions, "Good evening, I'm Jim, this is Lisa."

Sheila reached out to shake his hand and looked to House to make the introductions. House sighed, "This is Sheila. Shall we all go inside?"

They walked first into the foyer and looked around. There were apparently three artists showing their work including Jack Flannery's paintings, which were paintings of common, every day scenes. The other two artists were more abstract and a little bizarre. One worked in plastic, the other in papier-mâché.

They were each provided programs and Lisa suggested they begin in the back, "If we go first to the back of the exhibit, we can work our way to the front and out. Besides, the drinks table is in the back."

They all made their way to the back, stopping to talk to the occasional acquaintance. House slipped his arm around Sheila's waist and they paused occasionally before they reached the Flannery exhibit to look at an odd exhibit or two. As they entered the Flannery room, House was engaged in some banter with Wilson. He turned to look forward and immediately spotted a prominent painting of a nude woman. He was mesmerized. The painting showed a very beautiful blonde woman, laying in bed, her breasts exposed, but her hips covered with the bedspread. It almost looked like a slightly blurred photo, the image was so peaceful and inviting.

Several people were in front of the painting, obscuring House's view. House smiled as he pushed the crowd away with his cane so that he could see. He knew the woman in the painting. It was the delicious Mercy Darling. Sheila, Wilson and Lisa moved on to other works of art, but House stayed to admire the beautiful breasts of the woman who tempted him with Bourbon tarts. He felt someone move in the crowd next to him.

"What do you think?"

House turned to see Mercy Darling standing next to him. He smiled and looked down at the cleavage that was exposed in her summer floral dress. He managed to stop gaping at her breasts and look in her eyes, "I think you need to see my apartment."

She cocked her head and chuckled. Leaning into him and Mercy whispered, "You have a gorgeous brunette on your arm tonight Dr. House, you don't need an old baker." She lifted up her champagne in a toast to him, slipping into the crowd. He watched her slink off with the confidence of a tigress. She walked up to a younger man with a dark beard and dark eyes. The man reached over and gave her a gentle kiss on her lips. House wasn't sure if this was the kiss of a friend or a lover. He looked around and saw Sheila, Cuddy and Wilson walking towards Mercy and the bearded guy. He walked cautiously over to join them.

Sheila bent forward to give the same bearded man a kiss on his cheek and a smile. They obviously knew each other. She turned to see House approaching, "Jack Flannery, this is Dr. Gregory House, Jim and Lisa. Sorry I don't know your full names."

Wilson stepped up, "James Wilson and Lisa Cuddy, we're very glad to meet you Jack. Your work is incredible."

House watched Mercy as she stood and listened to Jack and Sheila discuss the opening. Mercy glanced over at House and saw that he was watching her. She smiled. Jack put his arm around Mercy as he continued to discuss his paintings. Mercy started to pull away, but Jack gently pulled around her waist, lazily kissed her neck and then let her go.

She walked off, House watching her as she went over to one of the champagne tables. He could see that there were pastries on the table next to the champagne. He realized that they were the bourbon tarts. He left Sheila, who was still engaged in her banal conversation with Jack, and followed Mercy.

He came up on her left side, "Your aphrodisiac tarts?"

She turned, staring up into his eyes and grinned, "Dr. House. You have a young girl hanging on your every word. Why aren't you with her?"

"Actually, she's hanging on your young boyfriend's every word."

"Boyfriend?" She chuckled, "I'd call him a 'friend with benefits.'" She turned to the table, picked up a tart and held it up once again for him to bite. He smiled down at her and took a bite. The flavors burst again! House closed his lips over her fingers and licked the tips of them. She didn't pull her fingers out. After House pulled back, she put her fingers in her mouth and licked them, sending House's libido into overdrive.

"Dr. House, you need to go back to your date and I need to bring out some more tarts."

Mercy turned and disappeared into a side room. He followed her. She turned and shook her head, nodding sternly, "Your girlfriend is going to get worried."

"She seems to be happy. Come on, just take a few minutes off and talk to me. Do you like his work?" House leaned up against a table.

Mercy looked at him, her face blank, leaving House unable to read her. She took a deep breath and leaned up against the table too. She gave him a sexy smile,"Yes, I do. A lot."

The ice was broken and they talked, debated and joked back and forth for the next twenty minutes. House was surprised as to how witty she was and how much she knew about the history of the pandemic flu and its influence on World War I. As they talked, he tried to remember how the conversation had turned to influenza. He couldn't remember how it started, but the discussion ended with her claiming that bird flu would be Stephen King's 'Captain Trips.'

"I really have to get back to the tarts."

House looked out the door at Flannery and Sheila, "Speaking of tarts, I better go back to mine too."

House walked back to the small crowd now gathered around Flannery. He was still giving a lecture on his painting technique and it appeared to House that Sheila and several others were still hanging on his every word. He walked to the painting of Mercy and stared. Flannery seemed to have captured what made her so sensual, the curves, the smile, the curls and the confidence in her eyes. If he caught all of that, then those breasts must be pretty good reproductions. They're perky, ride high on her chest and are perfectly round. I love the nipples, their proud little pink gum drops, just waiting to be played with... I think I picked the wrong bakery babe.

Sheila finally joined him, followed by Wilson and Cuddy. They all looked up at the painting. Sheila cocked her head to the side. "Isn't that the woman you were talking to? The one with Jack?"

"Yes, she's a baker. She bakes cakes for me."

Wilson took another look at the painting, "Aren't you special? So that's the mystery baker?"

House nodded.

Lisa was amazed, "The one who bakes your surprise cakes?"

"That's the one."

Sheila looked confused. "Jack's girlfriend bakes cakes for you?"

"She bakes the cakes that are ordered by some anonymous donor."

Sheila said softly, "Aren't you lucky."

"Speaking of lucky. How lucky am I going to get tonight?"

"I'd say we're going to back and bake you a cake tonight at my apartment..." She hooked her arm through his left arm.

"You mean I can use your oven?"

She wiggled her eyebrows and they said goodnight to Wilson and Cuddy.


	5. Chapter 3 Part 2

House was impressed with Sheila's apartment. It was tastefully decorated in soft melon and dove gray. Hanging on her walls were portraits of several famous jazz artists, including Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, Cannonball Adderley and Bessie Smith. She had an extensive CD collection of Jazz, but no records. The apartment floor plan was a typical one bedroom apartment, but smaller than most. House was surprised that, as a student, she lived alone without someone sharing the hefty rent of an apartment in Princeton.

"How can you afford to live on your own?" House asked.

She shrugged, "I work and go to school. I didn't go to University straight out of high school. I married a guy who was well off, not rich, but well off. My divorce settlement was adequate enough to let me live the life I do now. But I need to get my butt out of school and start making some real money. My settlement is going to run out in a year."

"What are you studying?" House was impressed that she was bright enough to be accepted to Princeton.

"Urban Planning with an emphasis in Economics."

"When you get into it, can you make sure that they put in motorcycle only lanes on the main streets?"

She chuckled. "Drink?"

"What have you got?"

"Beer, wine and..."She went over to a cabinet, "Appears to be Tequila and Gin."

"A beer is fine."

She smiled, "Great, I'm a beer drinker too. I've got Sierra Nevada and Guinness."

House was still looking around and poking his nose into things, "Guinness."

"Here." She handed him a beer and then kicked off her heels. Sitting on the butter-soft chenille sofa, she tucked her legs up under her.

House sat down next to her, took a swig, put it down and grabbed her beer out of her hands, sitting it next to his. He pulled her forward and kissed her. She tasted like beer, which, for some reason, he found rather sexy. His tongue ran along her teeth as she slipped her hand down to his thigh and then up, rubbing him through his trousers. House was pleasantly surprised at her assertiveness and the nice sensations coming from his groin.

He placed his hand on her breast and realized she had too much padding in her bra to get to the nipples. He reached around and pulled the zipper down on her dress.

"Let's move this into my bedroom," she suggested.

House's eyebrows went up, this had been really easy. Her bedroom was just as tastefully decorated in peach and cream, not too frilly, but definitely feminine. House sat down to take off his shoes and socks, looked up just in time to see her dress fall to the floor revealing a very padded, push up bra and matching coral colored thong.

He stood up, took the condom out of his pocket and put it on the night stand. He undid his trousers and let them fall to the floor while he undid the buttons on his shirt-cuffs. He watched her hang up her dress, noting that her ample ss was spectacular. House managed to get his tie and shirt off, almost in one fell swoop. He motioned for her to come over to him. She walked slowly across the room, smiling coyly.

House pulled her close and, in one movement, unsnapped her bra. She pulled it off as House watched.

_Small, but pendulous. When she's older she's going to need work. Maybe I could recommend a plastic surgeon. Not yet, wait until I'm getting ready to leave, I don't want her getting her thong in a wad. Hmm...her nipples are huge, brownish red. I'll have fun with those._

He fondled her breasts and then reached down to the cheeks of her butt, pulling her into his groin, pressing his erection up against her. Her breasts rubbed against his chest as he bent down to suck on one. Dropping his boxers, she took his cue and dropped her thong, revealing a dark mass of wiry curls. House pushed her down on the bed.

Sheila was looking at his scar, but House couldn't read her reaction. It was clinical, nothing more. Apparently, she was okay with it because she continued to french kiss him. House reached down and felt her, she was still dry. He was going to have to play with her with his fingers or go down on her. House pushed Sheila's legs apart and then pushed her legs up, grabbed a pillow and placed it under her hips. He licked her thighs and separated her folds with his finger. He started to lick and suck and was happy to hear noises coming from her indicating a rather wild orgasm. She pushed his head away, indicating she must be through. He looked up at her and immediately knew she had faked her orgasm. He didn't care, he'd confront her later. She was still wet enough to penetrate and he was having a hard time staying hard now that he knew she was faking. He grabbed the condom and dressed himself, pushed Sheila's legs open again and stabbed into her, hard and fast. The friction was helping as was the warmth inside of her. He sucked on her breasts and started to thrust with an even rhythm, not fast, not slow. He was hard again and enjoying the electrical sensations the thrusting provided. She pushed up into him as he began to pick up the pace. House concentrated on the feel of her muscles around his erection. She was thrusting up and gripping as hard as she could. He smiled, she was trying to get it over as soon as possible.

House was going to slow down, just to play with her, but there was no slowing the train; he was going to come. The gripping of her muscles was working. He groaned out loud and gave her three more stabs, each one giving him the relief he needed. When he was done, she quickly pulled away so that he would pull out. He rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. She pushed herself up and disappeared into the bathroom, the door shut.

House chuckled. _Okay? She looks like a Victoria Secret's model, teases like a Courtney Love and screws like a New England Puritan. What's with her?_

A few minutes later she opened the door, dressed in her robe and clearly disappointed to see a still naked House, with a deflated condom covered penis still laying where she left him. He looked over at her, knowing that she wanted him to at least clean up and put on his boxers. He pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked at her.

"Why'd you run off like that?"

"I was done, weren't you?" She said cautiously.

He patted the bed next to him. "I don't know, are we?"

"I have to get up early in the morning."

House laughed, "Bull shit. You just don't like sex, do you?"

She blushed bright red, "What do you mean, I came...you came. I just need to go to sleep."

House sat up, removed the rubber and walked into the bathroom where he took a leak while still yelling to her in the bedroom. "You didn't come and you did everything possible to make me come as quick as possible. What's going on?" He walked into the bedroom and grabbed his boxers, pulling them back on. He looked down at her, sitting on the side of her bed. He waited, but she wasn't saying anything. "Do you always hate sex? Or just sex with me?"

"I'm uncomfortable with it, very conscientious – about my body."

"You mean your small pendulous breasts? So what, you can have breast augmentation some day."

Chapter 3 Part 2

Her face fell, causing House to be secretly satisfied. She had expected him to reassure her that she was perfect. But House hated people who need to be reassured. He continued to get dress as she continued to sit on the side of the bed. He was ready to leave and was surprised when she accompanied him to the door.

Sheila leaned on the open door, "Will I see you again?"

House let out a breath, indicating his frustration, "You want a repeat of this?"

She shrugged and looked down, "I don't mind. I enjoyed your company."

He chuckled, "You're one twisted babe. I like that." He turned and looked at her, "But I'm into women who fuck back...and _like it." _He paused, looked her up and down, "But, like they say, any port in a storm. I'll give you a call." House left, shaking his head to himself and wondering what had happened in her past to make her so self-conscious. Perhaps, it might be worth it to "mentor" her. House thought about it all the way home, getting aroused just thinking what he could teach her. He showered and climbed in bed for a rather decent night's rest.


	6. Chapter 4 Part 1

**Chapter 4**

**TUTELAGE**

On Wednesday House was surprised to find a message on his voice mail at work from Sheila, "Hi Greg, it's Sheila. I was wondering if you wanted to go to a friend's birthday party Friday night? Give me a call."

House wasn't sure he wanted to go to a party. But the apprenticeship of Sheila Velga was a tempting proposition. At least it would be entertaining to take a young, beautiful, coed and make her his concubine. He called her back, "Sure, what time are you going to pick me up?"

There was silence. Obviously, she hadn't anticipated that she would have to drive. But she was okay with it, "8:00 pm?"

"Nah, I'll pick you up." He decided that he didn't want her ending up at her apartment. He'd rather be in control of when he left.

House went back to work, occasionally envisioning the lesson plan he had for Sheila. He soon had to stop daydreaming. The case he had in front of him was interesting and involved every brain cell he had available. For the next two days he tortured his team by screaming and berating them, sending them out to take samples of the patient's home, work and gym. On Friday, the patient was diagnosed and treatment was started. He went home, showered and picked Sheila.

The date with Sheila was uneventful except for the fact that House told one of Sheila's friends to see a doctor, she had hepatitis. The evening was fairly boring until he saw the birthday cake.The cake was in the shape of a rock since the birthday girl was a rock climber. You wouldn't have known the cake was not a rock, until she cut into it. It was a delicious spice cake with a gray buttermilk and whipped cream frosting. If House hadn't seen the cake, but simply tasted it, he would still have known that the cake was made by Mercy. The flavor wasn't just sweet, their was a burst of spice as soon as it hit his tongue followed by a sweet and sour taste of the buttermilk frosting. It was the perfect blend.

He sat and ate it in silence while Sheila talked to her friends nonstop. The cake reminded him of the painting and the seductively smiling Mercy. He looked down and smiled to himself, visions of pink nipple-like gum drops dancing through his active imagination.

When they got back to Sheila's apartment, he slowed things down, letting her have a few more drinks. He refused to allow her to touch him, insisting this night was all about her. The drinks did the trick, Sheila was feeling relaxed and more open to what House had to offer. So he offered her a hand... in the right place. When she screamed, this time her body flushed and her toes curled and House smiled.

_Oh yeah, she's mine now._

Sheila was embarrassed by the orgasm, the feeling of being out of control was frightening to her. It wasn't as if she hadn't felt one, it's just that it had always been something she had given herself in the privacy of her own bedroom. This orgasm was difficult for her to deal with because, although she was embarrassed, she wanted more. More meant that she had to find a way to stop feeling so self-conscious. She didn't want to have to get drunk just to relax enough to let House work his magic.

When they woke up the next morning, House turned to ply her with his cunning cunninglus, but she ran into the bathroom again. He rolled his eyes in frustration. "Should I go get you a bottle of wine and then we can have sex again?"

"I have to get to work." She wasn't lying, but the reality was that she didn't have to be there until 9:00 pm, which wasn't for another two hours, plenty of time for another tumble.

House yawned and stretched, "Okay, I'll call you." Once again he got dressed and left without a second round. _This is going to take longer than I thought._

House was driving home when he passed by Darling Cakes and Pastries. He drove another two blocks before smiling to himself and making the next left turn. He parked the car, walked around to the back and opened the screen door. She had her back to him and was kneading dough again. House watched her shoulders as Mercy worked the dough. She paused, swept her hair up from her face and continued to knead. She stopped, stood up straight to stretch, heard something and then turned abruptly to face him.

"Jesus H. Christ." She threw up her hands and closed her eyes, "I felt like someone was watching me, but I didn't really expect someone to be there. Dr. House, what do you want?"

He walked up to her and pushed an errant strand of hair out of her face. "What are you making?"

She sneered at him, still slightly shaken and a little taken back by the intimacy of him playing with her hair. She exhaled and gave him the once over. Tall, lanky, and incredibly sexy in that cruel, evil way that he had. She thought about sex with him and wondered if they'd be good together. It was a bad idea considering what had happened and what had brought him into her life.

_He'd go nuts if he ever found out I was screwing House, absolutely nuts if he found out. Would he find out?_ She looked at House again, but resisted the urge to flirt back. _I can't risk it. _

"I'm kneading dough for bread."

He looked at her like a naughty child, "It looks rather enticing."

She smiled and shook her head lightly, "You have to have strong hands."

He went over to the sink and washed his hands. "Show me."

"I'm not Patrick Swayze and you aren't Demi Moore."

House gave her puppy dog eyes.

Mercy's shoulders collapsed at the sight of a moping House. She shook her head, turned back and started kneading the dough. "You have to keep pulling it towards you and then folding it back. At the same time you knead it." She kept working the dough as his arms slipped around her and his hands covered hers.

He whispered into her ear, letting his breath tickle her neck behind her ear, "Like this?" He gently, but firmly, grabbed her hands and kneaded the bread with her.

Mercy could smell him, feel his chest leaning on her back, his arms enclosed around her shoulders. She was feeling a little light headed, her heart and breathing picking up. He smelled a little like sweat mixed in with stale cologne. She turned around in his arms and leaned back to look up.

House could feel her twist around in his arms until her breasts slid across his chest. He took a deep breath and leaned in to kiss her. Mercy could feel he was excited, his erection was pushing through his trousers up against her apron. She opened her mouth slightly and tilted her head.

His lips came into contact with hers. They were soft and she smelled like vanilla. His tongue licked the edge of her lip and then tickled the tip of Mercy's tongue. She tickled back, reaching up around his neck, running her hands up the back of his neck as they continued to play with each other's tongues. She pushed her hips into his groin

She heard the screen door slam. Pushing House back she straightened up and took a deep breath. There was some laughter from the other side of the room, "Do you guys want some privacy?" Lydia asked.

Mercy cleared her throat, "No, Dr. House was just leaving."

"No, I wasn't." House insisted.

She nodded strenuously, "_Yes, you were! Now!" _She gave him a look that told him she was serious.

He frowned like a frustrated teenager, "Don't do this." He could see she wasn't going to budge, "Come on, don't make me leave. Let's go back to your office."

"Dr. House, I have bread to bake."

He gave her a sweet look, "I could put a bun in your oven. Get things cooking."

Her mouth dropped open, "Out! Out, now!"

He grabbed his cane and started to leave. She ran after him as he walked down the alley.

"Dr. House!"

He turned around, "We just exchanged bodily fluid. When that happens, I usually let the young lady or...old...whatever...call me Greg."

"I'd prefer it if you would use the front door to the bakery from now on, _after _we open." She had both her hands on her hips and wasn't smiling.

He weighed his options. Should he try and tease her, be witty? He decided that discretion was the better part of valor, he shrugged and left.

**Dear Readers -- It's nice to get feedback...please let me know what you think! Thanks. Gorblimey2**


	7. Chapter 4 Part 2

CHAPTER 4 - PART 2

"What is going on with you?" Wilson was pissed.

House glowered at Wilson, "Oh God, not you."

"You've got your team cleaning the nurses locker room–"

"– They misbehaved– "

"– and you've been screaming at the nurses– "

House waved his hand in the air and yelled, "That's why the team's cleaning the Nurses' Lounge. I'm making it up to the nurses."

"By pissing off your team?"

"Those pansies? They'll live." House put his hand over his face as if he could block Wilson out. He waited a few seconds and then looked up, hoping that Wilson would be gone. When he saw Wilson still standing in front of his desk he grimaced and moaned.

"House! What's wrong with you?"

He knocked his head on the desk and then lifted up, "Two women. Two women."

"Wait, I knew you were seeing Sheila, but who's the other woman?"

House leaned back in his chair as Wilson sat down across from his desk. "I'm seeing and mentoring Sheila in the art of pleasure...but I keep thinking about Mercy."

"Okay, mercy for what? What did you do?"

"No, Mercy Darling."

Wilson shook his head, "No, mercy, darling? Are you referring to me? House, you're not making any sense."

"The woman who bakes cakes, _Mercy Darling_."

A lightbulb went on, "You're lusting after the baker?"

House grabbed the ball off his desk and started to throw it into the air, "The baker is older, unavailable and not a brilliant Princeton student."

"But she's good looking, age appropriate and a mystery. Exactly the kind of woman that you really like. You don't know much about her or who's paying her to bake you cakes, so you fixate on her rather than enjoy what you have."

House put the ball down, stood up and started putting things into his backpack. "Well, don't worry your pretty little head, a couple of weeks ago I kissed her and she told me not to come back unless I'm buying pastries."

Wilson cracked up, "When did that ever stop you?"

"I've convinced myself I'm better off staying with the young body with the good career prospects. Less headaches and more gratitude for what I can do for her. I don't need someone who's past her pull-by date."

"You mean the baker? She's maybe 35, 36...38? That's not old. Besides she's hot. If you're not going to pursue her, would you mind if -– "

House shook his head, "Forget about it. She and Flannery, you know, friends with benefits."

"I don't think so. I saw Flannery with another woman the other day and they looked madly in love."

House looked intently at Wilson, wondering if it was true.

House was busy for the next few months with more patients than usual. At one point he had three patients, all needing his immediate help. He depleted his energy so much that he didn't see Sheila for several weeks, ending in a nasty fight over his lack of attention.

Thanksgiving was rapidly approaching which House knew meant he would be receiving some kind of cake, pie or pastry, if the past was any indicator. He had no plans for Thanksgiving. Wilson had mentioned that he was welcomed to go with him to his parent's house, which of course House declined.

House had just finished treating a patient the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving. He dismissed the team for the Thanksgiving holiday, letting them have Wednesday off since they had worked through the weekend. He was about to leave when he saw her walk up to the door. She opened it and stuck her head inside the office.

She tilted her head, "I didn't expect you to still be here, it's 8:00 pm."

He said nothing but watched her come inside. Mercy was wearing a purple silk and cashmere tunic dress that clung to her curves along with black boots and stockings. She looked sophisticated and sexy. She carried a tall square pink box. She put the pink box down on his desk, opened the lid and chirped, "Happy Thanksgiving."

He thought about what tactic he should take and decided maybe he should be as firm with her as she had been in the alley...call her bluff about seeing each other. He said without any expression, "I don't want it."

She blinked a couple of times in surprise, "But It's for _you_. I can't take it back...it's for _you_."

"Give it to whoever ordered it. I don't want it.'

She shook her head in protest, "You have to take it. _It's yours_."

He looked solemnly at her, "It's _mine?"_

She smiled weakly and nodded.

He took the pink box filled with a round cake, apparently chocolate with a yellow layer of something drizzled with chocolate glaze, and dropped it in the trash can. The look on her face made him realize he had calculated wrong. She was crushed, as if he had just kicked her puppy. He thought she might cry.

Her voice was shaking, "I meant that it was your cake, I named it after you. I came up with the recipe just for you. It was a dark chocolate whisky cake with a baked cheesecake topping drizzled with melted Godiva chocolate. It had a full cup of Glenlivet in it. I spent two weeks developing that recipe for you, trying several variations...I wanted it to be special for the holidays...I wanted to..." She was quickly running out of steam, so distressed at seeing the box in the trash. Two weeks and twenty cakes later all in a gray office trash bin. She looked at the trash can and then up to House. He appeared to be contrite, as if he wanted to say something. She turned and as she ran out of the office said over her shoulder, "Happy Thanksgiving Greg."

He looked in the trash and cursed under his breath. He grabbed his cane, but knew he wasn't going to catch her. So he ran to the atrium and yelled from the balcony overlooking the entry, "Mercy, Mercy!" People looked at him as he yelled for mercy. But Mercy didn't look back, she just kept her head up, shoulders straight and exited to the parking lot.

House went back into the office, reached into the trash can and pulled out the pink box just as Wilson came in. He sat the box on his desk and fished around for a plastic fork in his desk.

"What are you doing?" Wilson asked, his nose turned up.

"I'm trying to find a fork so I can eat my cake."

"You're going to eat a cake that was in the trash?"

House seemed annoyed, "It's still in the box! It didn't touch the trash can or anything in it."

Wilson went into the next office, brought back two plates and forks. The cake was smashed and showed no resemblance to the cake that had been delivered, but House placed pieces of it on the two plates. They sat down and began to eat.

There were no words at first, just lingering bites. Finally Wilson looked up at House as if he had just discovered Penicillin.

"My God, this is almost as good as sex. What possessed you to throw it away?"

House's eyes were closed as he allowed the whiskey and chocolate, followed by a taste of the cheesecake, to slide down the back of his throat, "I'm an idiot. I was trying to make a point, but the point stuck me in the ass."

"I'd marry that woman just for this recipe."

House took another bite and as each flavor disappeared down his gullet he realized just how much of an ass he had been. He grabbed his things and took off.

The bakery was closed for the night. He went back in the morning, but was told that she had left for the holidays. For the next two weeks he went to the bakery to see her, but no one would let him in or acknowledge that she was there. He tried the alley, but since the weather had turned cold, the door was no longer open. He banged on it and was unceremoniously told to go away. When he didn't, the police were called and he was escorted off the premises.

House continued to show up on occasion at the bakery to purchase pastries. He noticed that the cake she had made for him was now on the menu. It was called the "House Cake" and it was $50.00.

He asked the new girl behind the counter, "This House Cake, is it good?"

She nodded, "One of our best sellers. Men really like it."

"Give me one."

She batted her eyes, "Oh, we're out right now. We should have some tomorrow if you want to come back."

House nodded and left with his Bourbon tart.

House was still dating Sheila, but only on the weekends and even that wasn't every weekend. She complained constantly about wanting more time with him. It was a Sunday morning and he was putting on his clothes. Sheila had just spent the last few minutes yelling at him for not seeing her the weekend before.

House, frustrated, yelled back, "I have patients and sometimes I just don't want to deal with your insecurities."

Sheila fumed, "Then why ask me out?"

"Sex." He said without hesitation.

She registered pain, her face crumbling into sadness.

He softened, "Sex and your brilliant conversation. Sheila, this isn't suppose to be exclusive. See other guys. It's okay."

Her face fell, her lips drooping. She was hurt by his admission that he didn't consider her to be his "girlfriend." He didn't try to soften it. He leaned over and kissed her goodbye.

House stayed late at work on December 22nd, but no cake arrived. He stayed late again on December 23rd just in case she showed. He was happy when he looked up to see a pink box brought in by Cuddy.

"This was delivered downstairs." Cuddy hung around in the hopes that she could score a piece.

House opened the cake and immediately knew Mercy hadn't made it. It was a rather plain cake, like the ones he saw in the display cases that you could buy and have something written on at the last minute. It was a white cake with Christmas decorations around the edges. On top it simply said, "Merry Christmas" in handwriting that he didn't recognize. House wrapped it up and gave it to Cuddy.

"Here, you can have it."

She laughed, "I'm Jewish, what am I going to do with a Christmas cake?"

House didn't care, "Give it to the night shift, from me. That will throw them."

"I won't let them know it's from you until after they eat it. Otherwise, they'll think it's a joke and there's something in it."

House smirked, "Whatever. I'm going home." He started to walk out of the office.

Cuddy yelled after him, "Merry Christmas House."

"Humbug."


	8. Chapter 5 Part 1

**Sorry about posting Chapter 5 Part 2 before Chapter 5 Part 1...sorry...**

**CHAPTER 5**

**TARTS AND WHIP CREAM**

On December 24th, House decided that he deserved a Christmas gift to himself. He called the Perlman gallery for their hours and found out that they were closing at noon. "I want to buy a Flannery painting I saw at his show."

A pleasant, but sophisticated female voice informed him, "Oh, Mr. Flannery's works have been transferred back to his studio for shipment to his next show in Los Angeles. You might try him there. The show in L.A. isn't until January 15th, so I'm sure he still has his paintings with him."

House took down the studio's address and hung up He shaved, showered and dressed, taking off for the studio as soon as possible. He parked the car and found himself at the bottom of a building full of fashionable lofts. He rang the bell and was surprised that Flannery actually answered the intercom himself.

"Yeah?"

"This is Greg House, Sheila's friend. I met you at your show at the Perlman. I 'd like to purchase a painting from you."

"Now?" He sounded incredulous.

House was annoyed. _Who cares when? You've got a customer, you idiot. Don't ask stupid questions._ "Yes, I want it for Christmas."

He heard the buzzer sound letting him in. He took the shipping elevator up to the fifth floor and found himself out side a makeshift corridor with a door. Flannery was standing at the opened door.

House could tell that Flannery recognized him, "Oh, I remember you. How is Sheila?"

"Fine." House walked inside and saw a well-lit loft space with canvasses all around the room, on easels, the floor, hanging on the wall, leaned against the wall and stacked nearby. There were two works in progress. One was a city scene, the other a portrait of a young man.

"Are you two still seeing each other?"

House nodded, "Occasionally."

Flannery chuckled, "Yeah, that's about all anyone can take of Sheila. She's great eye candy, but she reeks of insecurity."v

House snickered, "You're preaching to the choir." House looked around, but didn't see the painting. "I want to buy the painting of Mercy Darling."

Flannery chuckled in appreciation, "You've got the hots for her?"

House said nothing, but Flannery knew that there must be something.

"Get in line." Flannery sighed, "Well, I hate to tell you, but the nude isn't available."

"Available?"

Flannery motioned for House to follow him. They went to another room, more like a storage room of a dozen canvasses or more. There was one that was turned around, facing the wall. Flannery went over and turned it back around. House pulled back in shock. There was a black streak across Mercy's face and breasts along with half a dozen long slashes through the canvas.

House blurted out, "_What happened?"_

Flannery put the painting down and grabbed a chair for House, sitting himself down on a stool. "A well dressed woman, you know, the Neiman Marcus type, came into the gallery asking about the painting the day after the opening. She asked Perlman if it was still for sale. He said yes. She took a wad of money out of her purse and paid him $5,800 plus tax. He asked her where she wanted the painting delivered. She told him it wouldn't be necessary, the person who had hired her to make the purchase had explicit orders. She took out a can of spray black enamel and began to spray the painting. Perlman tried to stop her, but she reminded him that she had just purchased the painting and it wasn't his property. After she sprayed it, she took out a knife and slashed it before walking out of the gallery. Perlman called me and I went down to the gallery. I didn't have the heart to trash it. But there's no way it can be repaired. I'm going to throw it away next week after I remove it from the frame. The frame cost me $500, so at least I can salvage something."

House was visibly shaken, "Who would do this?"

Flannery looked sad, "I asked Mercy and all she said was, 'Don't ask.' She knows, but she won't tell me." Flannery stood up, "Can I get you a beer? I feel I owe it to you. After all, you drove all the way to Philly to buy a painting that's been trashed."

House followed Flannery into the kitchen area where he pulled two beers out of the refrigerator. They sat and drank their beers. "How did you meet Mercy?"

"She gave a class on the history of WWI in Belgium. Besides being an artist, I'm a WWI buff. I went to it and stayed afterwards to meet her. She's one of those women that you immediately want to know more about."

House leaned forward, "Lecture on WWI?"

"Mercy's an authority on WWI. Probably the most knowledgeable in the tri-state area."

House's face scrunched up in disbelief, "She's a _baker!"_

"She comes from a family of bakers. She's a baker _and_ a historian. Have you ever _talked_ to her?"

House thought back. His one conversation with the woman he was infatuated with had been about WWI and the pandemic flu. _So why am I so shocked? _"No. Not really."

"She's been a lot of places, seen a lot of things, written books, and bakes the best cakes on the east coast. But she's not as cheery and happy-go-lucky as she was before. I know something dramatic happened a couple of years ago, because I went to Europe in December, came back in June and she was different, somber. She didn't have anyone to talk to. Her best friend had married and moved to California. After his wife died, her brother sold the bakery to her and took off for some place in Mexico. So she had no family nearby. I tried to get her to tell me what was wrong, but she wouldn't."

"Does she want to be a baker?"

"Yeah, she loves it. She still gives the odd lecture, writes papers and consults on WWI movies, but she really loves baking."

House stood up, staring out and thinking about what a strange creature Mercy Darling was. "Has she ever told you who ordered cakes to be delivered to me on holidays?"

Flannery laughed, "No, I didn't know she was delivering cakes to you. But you're one lucky guy. I love her cakes. Hey! I just remembered that I still have a painting of Mercy. It's smaller and she's not nude, but I think she looks even sexier in it. Come on, I'll show you."

They went back out to the living area of the loft to the north corner of the living room area. He pulled a painting, about 2'x3', from the corner. House couldn't help but smile when he saw it. Mercy was leaning against a stainless steel table in the bakery. She was surrounded by pastries and cakes. Her peasant blouse was falling off her right shoulder, strands of blonde hair hung down around her face and you could see just a touch of cleavage. The apron cinched her waist, showing off her thin, but curvy, body. House had to admit, Mercy looked as sexy in this painting as in the nude, probably because she looked the same as the morning he had kissed her.

"How much?"

He looked at House and hesitated. "I was asking $3,200, but if it means that you won't paint over it and cut it to shreds then I'll give it you for $2,000."

House had never purchased an oil painting of anyone, but he had done his homework. Flannery was considered an up and coming artist. One that seemed to "have found the pulse of America" and captured it in his works. A $2,000 painting was a bargain. He took out his checkbook and wrote a check for $2,000.

"I'm glad you bought it. I can see you appreciate not just the painting, but the model. She's one of a kind. I still haven't figured her out."

They toasted with their beers. House drank up and, after Flannery wrapped the painting, House took it with him. He hung it by his piano, replacing one of the guitars he had on the wall. He could see her as he played and he liked that.

Late Christmas morning House received a phone call from Wilson. "I'm picking up the Christmas dinners from Honeybaked Hams, anything you want to go with it?""

"I'm cool. Just make sure the ham is Kosher."

There was no response from Wilson, just the click of the receiver.

Wilson showed up around noon and put the bags of food in the refrigerator to be heated later. He wandered out to the living room and immediately spied the new painting. He started to laugh.

"You've got a crush on her, don't you?"

House looked at the painting, "Oh that? I won it in the gallery raffle."

Wilson stopped laughing and looked puzzled, "What raffle?"

House raised his eyebrows, "The raflle at the Perlman Gallery. You didn't see it when you wen in the front door? By the plastic art thing. There was a raffle and this was the prize."

Wilson eyed House for a minute or so, not sure if he should believe him. He walked over and looked at the painting. "Strange, she's not posing nude, but there's a sensuality,her hair up except for a few strands falling around her neck, her blouse falling off her shoulder. You want to ... I don't know. At the very least you want to kiss her, huh?"

"I suppose."

"Did you get your Christmas cake after massacring the Thanksgiving one?"

He nodded, "But she didn't make it."

"Oh, your patron had to use another baker?"

"No, same bakery, Mercy just had someone else make it."

"Where is it?"

House looked casually at Wilson who had now taken a seat at the far end of the couch, "I gave it to the nurses."

Wilson didn't reply, but gave House a knowing smirk. "I figure dinner at 3:00 pm?"

"Yeah, fine."

Sheila called House later and came over the next evenin. They went to bed at six and eventually got up the next day. House said nothing to her about their previous conversation and she said nothing in return. But she was clearly intimidated by the painting.

As she was leaving she walked over to the painting, "You bought a painting of the baker?"

House pretended not to notice her tone of condemnation. "Yeah, it's a Flannery. I got it cheap. He had several nudes of women, but sold me this one for pennies on the dollar."

"I almost posed for him in the nude, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

House pretended to care, "Shame, I could have bought it instead."

"She's pretty isn't she?"

"Who?" He knew perfectly well that she meant Mercy. "Oh! The baker?" He narrowed his eyes and poked his head forward as if he was studying her. "I guess. In a kind a Bridget Bardot meets Hailey Mills way, huh?"

She shook her head, not knowing who they were, "I'm off."

House breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed. There was only so much of post-coital Sheila that he could take.


	9. Chapter 5 Part 2

Chapter 5- Part 2

"Tell her I need to speak to her about the last cake."

The older woman smiled at him, but was firm. "But Dr. House, Mercy told me to handle your deliveries from now on."

"Yeah, well I want to complain to her. Have her call me."

House was frustrated. Mercy Darling had dodged phone calls, personal visits and even a text message to her cell phone. It had taken a lot of bribes to get her cell phone number from the hospital records. House had been trying for over a month to connect with Mercy, but was running into brick walls. No one would let him get close to her. It was a simple stroke of luck that he managed to see her again.

Wilson walked into House's office, "What will you give me if I tell you how to connect with Mercy Darling?"

House turned his head to the side and eyed Wilson, "I'd let you come to the next poker game and not harass you."

Wilson was shocked, "Really?"

House nodded.

"I was just downstairs with a patient. Mercy's in emergency waiting to be treated for an injury to her arm."

House jumped up, passing Wilson with a warning, "You better not be lying."

House looked around and through the cubicles until he found her. He pulled the curtain back and saw Stanley Vista, the emergency room PA with her. Mercy had her sweater rolled up exposing her left forearm. House could see deep bruising.

Stanley maneuvered the arm, "It sure looks broken. We'll send you for x-rays. You said you fell?'

Mercy nodded, but a voice came from behind her shoulder, "Bullshit. The bruising is a perfect hand print. Judging from the size of it, it's probably a male's hand print."

Mercy took a deep breath, "Excuse me Dr. House, but I don't recall seeking your medical attention."

He shrugged and smiled, "Stanley here isn't a real doctor and we have to supervise the P.A.s to make sure they don't screw up. Stanley, this looks like domestic abuse, go get the reporting forms."

She looked at Stanley, her voice agitated, "No! It's not domestic abuse. I don't have a boyfriend!"

House smiled, "Want one?"

She sighed in disgust.

"Who did this?" House asked as Stanley left to get the forms.

She turned serious, almost sad, "Please drop this. It doesn't matter. It won't happen again. I promise."

House bent down and poked his face close to hers, "So you admit this wasn't an accident? Someone did this to you?"

Her voice was barely audible,"Yes. But, he's gone. It won't happen again."

"We have to report domestic abuse." He paused, "But I could be convinced that this wasn't domestic – just abuse – if you agree to go out after this and have a late lunch."

She looked annoyed, "I have a lot to do. Valentine's Day is in a couple of weeks. I need to order in supplies, lots of baking to do."

He shook his head, "You can forget that. You'll be here most of the afternoon answering questions from the cops and social services."

Her face drained. House could see that there was something more, it wasn't just wasting her time answering questions, that worried her. She didn't want to talk to the police.

"You're afraid of the police, aren't you?"

She shook her head violently, "No, I just don't want to waste my time. Okay, I'll have lunch with you."

House wanted to pursue the police angle, but figured he'd save it for lunch. "Come on, follow me."

House took her to Radiology and made the technician take her x-rays first. He looked at them. "You have a simple fracture. I'll get someone on my team to plaster you."

He found Remy and had her plaster the arm. As she put the inner bandage on she told Mercy, "You need to keep it in the cast for six weeks and then come back. We can take it off then."

Mercy met House at the Annex Restaurant, an established eaterie with good food. House, who had scored a close handicapped parking space, waited for her at the table. She was wearing jeans, a red chenille sweater and chocolate brown boots. The waitress handed her a menu as she sat down and then took their drink order.

She turned to House, "Okay, you bribed me into having lunch with you. Why?"

House didn't like being on the defensive, so the best defense was a good offense, "First you tell me why you don't want to discuss your broken arm with the police?"

She shrugged and tried to seem nonchalant, "I don't like the police."

"You're a very bad liar."

She leaned forward and whispered, "I really don't like the police. _And, I don't have to answer to you_."

He paused and then attacked again, "Who orders the cakes for me?"

She stood up, unwilling to stay for his interrogation. He grabbed her wrist. She winced at the pain, looked at his hand on her wrist and then down into his eyes.

"Sit." He motioned to the chair, "I promise to behave." She didn't budge, "I _promise."_

She sat back down. There was silence as she picked up the menu and began to look for something to order. She decided on the Cobb salad and then looked over at House who had already put his menu down. The waitress took their orders and left.

She glanced around at the other patrons, all busily talking and eating. She looked back at him. He was staring at her with his azure eyes. "You had a complaint about the cake you received for Christmas?"

"You didn't bake it." he said looking around as he did.

"So what's your complaint?"

"You're suppose to bake my cakes."

She laughed, "How would you know?"

"Because if they hadn't specified you, you would have had someone else bake the first ones. You're busy, why would you focus on one person's order if you didn't have to?"

"Good try. But no Kewpie doll."

House smiled at her, "I liked the House cake."

She knitted her forehead, puzzled, "Did you buy one?"

"I ate the one in the trash can."

She looked disgusted, "You're joking."

He shook his head. "It was still in the pink box. I pulled the box out and Wilson and I ate it. It didn't look pretty, but it was the best cake I've ever had." He saw her features thaw, her whole body relax and soften.

She smiled, "Why the drama over the cake that day?"

"I didn't like you telling me not to come around your kitchen."

She sighed, "You're just a child aren't you?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I can be. I discovered you're some big shot authority on World War I?"

"Some seem to think so."

He sneered, "False modesty doesn't become you."

"Okay. Yes, I'm a leading authority on World War I. I've written two books and co-authored a text on it." She said matter of factly.

"Where did you go to school?"

"Yale."

House was caught off guard. He had expected a state university or small private college. "Impressive, but why not Princeton?."

"I wanted to move away from family for awhile...you know 18 years old. I wanted to be let off the leash."

He nodded, "Oh I can understand that. I was the same way." He saw her smirk. "If you ever got to know me, maybe you wouldn't be so mean to me."

"I know a lot about you Greg House. I did my homework before I baked my first cake. I talked to nurses about what they saw you eating and what they thought about you. Funny, but two words kept getting jumbled together, genius and bastard. But they did tell me you loved chocolate, cherry lollipops and sweets in general. I learned that you live alone, but you once lived with a woman slightly older than you. No children, no marriage. No real love interests after your leg. Whether she left you because of the leg or because you blamed her for the leg, I'm not sure. But they say that for several years you had a sycophant as a Fellow that had the hots for you... I heard lots of things."

"Oh, I heard that you used to be happy but about two years ago, something bad happened and you haven't been the same happy, sweet person since."

She grinned. "I'm still nicer than you."

He softened and so did his voice,"Let me show you how nice I can be when I want to. Have dinner with me?"

The waitress brought the plates of food and sat them down, making sure they had all the necessary condiments. House was getting annoyed and wanted the waitress to stop hovering around the table. But Mercy gave him a look that told him to be patient.

When she left, Mercy smiled, "It's not easy being on your feet all day and taking abuse from jerks who want things and want them _now!_ "

House felt reprimanded. "I asked you out."

"Greg. Dating me wouldn't be a good move for either of us. I'm a patient person until someone pisses me off and you, well you'll piss me off."

"That kiss told me that you wanted to get to know me, even if it was in the Biblical sense. There's something else that you aren't telling me. There's another reason you don't want to see me."

"Honestly, we wouldn't be good for each other." Mercy shifted in her seat, wishing she could tell him.

"One date. I won't take no for an answer." He glared at her.

Mercy thought long and hard. She knew it was the wrong thing to do, but if she didn't do it, he'd just make her life more miserable with millions of text messages and phone calls. He was used to getting his way. She looked him dead in the eye, "You know, you're so used to getting your way, manipulating people into impossible positions. Can't you just _trust me _and accept my word when I say that hooking up would be bad news?"

He sat back. If he said no, then he be saying he didn't trust her; she'd be upset. But, if he agreed to trust her, then he wouldn't get his way. Something beyond his control was influencing her. _Is it the guy who hurt her? _ He decided to call her bluff, take a chance that he was right; he usually was.

"You're afraid that someone will see us together. The same guy bought and screwed with Flannery's painting."

She flinched and drew back, her gray eyes scared. "How did you know about the painting?"

"What's going on? Someone hurt your arm, screwed with the painting and made you afraid to go out with men." He thought for a second, "Or, is it that he would just be upset if you dated _me?"_

She was fidgeting with her food, goose bumps formed on her arms, "Greg, I'd like to go out with you – although I must be crazy – but I can't."

"Come to my place for dinner, you can sneak in my apartment and out. No one will see us out together."

"_You_ make dinner?" She thought about it. If she went to his place, she could sneak in, have the one date, make sure it went poorly and then leave. He'd stop badgering her and life would go on. "Okay. When?"

"Saturday night at 7:00 pm. You bring desert."

She giggled. "Okay. 221B Baker Street, right?"

He nodded.

"I still can't believe that you scored that address."

"I bought out the sublease of the guy who was there, just to get the apartment."


	10. Chapter 6 Part 1

**CHAPTER 6**

**EPICUREAN'S DELIGHT**

Saturday wasn't going well for Mercy. She couldn't do much in the kitchen with a cast on her arm, except bake a few odds and ends. Nonetheless, she still had to supervise the other bakers and kitchen help. She left at 6:00 pm, forgetting to bring a desert from the bakery. She realized as she was getting dressed that she had forgotten to bring something home. She was running late, so she grabbed supplies from her cabinets and took off.

Mercy had worn a black sweater and black stretch pants with short black boots and a Houndstooth swing coat. House opened the door and laughed, "You look like Agent 99."

She handed him the grocery bags.

"What's this?" he asked.

"I thought we'd bake together." She said sweetly. He gave her a look of unvarnished disbelief. She gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged, "Okay, I forgot to bring something from the bakery for desert, so I thought we could make something together."

He closed the door and nodded towards the coat stand. She put her coat on one of the hooks and followed him into the kitchen. She looked around the kitchen. The counters were higher than normal, but it was a respectable kitchen with adequate appliances and space.

He opened the refrigerator, "Beer, Tequila, Whiskey, Gin, Tonic..."

"Gin & tonic will be fine. Bathroom?"

"The bathroom is down the hall." He motioned to the door leading to the living room. She went running down the hall as he made the gin & tonic. He heard the toilet flush and her boots clack back down the hall.

"_Aaaaaaa!_"

House froze and then ducked out of the kitchen to find out what the scream was about. Mercy was standing in front of the painting, her fist tightly gripping her sweater and her mouth wide open. She turned around, so dumbfounded, she couldn't say anything but point at the painting. He walked over and gave her silly looks until she managed to ask, "Why?"

_Have you looked at the painting? He captured you – the hot, beautiful, sexy, savvy, you. _"It was a good investment."

She smiled and walked up to within a couple of feet of House. "You could have bought any one of his paintings. You _chose_ that one?"

"Yes, I chose that one. It was the only one on sale."

Mercy threw her head back and laughed. He laughed at her laugh. It was rich and full and her whole body embraced it. He reached over and lightly grabbed her good arm and pulled her over to him.

Her laughter petered out as she put her hand on his upper arm. It felt firm under the t-shirt. She bent slightly back. "Greg, I came over to have dinner, let's just have dinner. The painting, your interest in me, it's making me feel uncomfortable."

House could tell she was melting, that he could still kiss her if he wanted. Her protests were weak and she wasn't trying to get out of his soft grasp. But, her eyes were begging him not to do anything. He hesitated then let go and went back into the kitchen. She stood shaking, her eyes closed, her heart beating fast.

After swallowing hard, she went in and looked around. She saw nothing that looked like dinner cooking. "Where's dinner?"

"It's on it's way."

"_You_ were going to _make_ me dinner."

"No, I said you could _come_ _over_ for dinner." There was a knock at the door, "I believe dinner is served." He grabbed his wallet out of his pocket and opened the door.

He exchanged money with the delivery boy and brought the food into the kitchen, putting it down in front of Mercy. He went over and pulled down plates and grabbed silverware out of the drawer.

Mercy looked into the sacks and pulled out trays of food. One had Chicken Parmigiana, the other had broccoli and almonds with a light cheese sauce. The last carton had pasta tossed in a pesto sauce. She dished the meal out and they walked out to the table, sitting down with their drinks.

"Where did you grow up Greg?"

"My Dad was military, we were stationed a lot of places. I went to 5th and 6th grades in Egypt, middle school in Japan, and most of my high school in Italy. When we finally came home and settled near El Toro Marine Base, it was time for me graduate from high school and go to University."

"Where were you born?"

"Tripler Army Hospital in Honolulu."

She cocked her head, "Hawaii! You're a world traveler. Where do you go on vacation?"

He smirked, "Vacation? Last time I went somewhere on vacation it was Mardi Gras in New Orleans, back before the turn of the century."

"You don't like to go on vacation?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I've done that. Traveling doesn't interest me that much."

"I can't travel enough."

"Oh, where was your last vacation?"

"Several years ago, in Europe. I received notice while I was in France that my Mom had died. I had to come home and take over the bakery."

"I thought you had a brother?"

House watched her turn white.

"Who told you that?" She asked.

"Flannery."

She looked stunned when he mentioned Flannery.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I just realized that you must know more about me than I thought!"

House chuckled, "Not much. Why didn't your brother take over the bakery?"

"He owned his own business, a software business. It was very successful, too successful. He barely had time for his wife. He wanted to sell the bakery so that we'd both be free of it. But, I Iove the bakery. It's been in my mother's family for generations. I grew up in that kitchen; so I bought him out. That ended my traveling, at least for now."

He didn't smile, but he did wiggle his eyebrows, "We could go on a vacation together."

She chuckled, her eyes crinkling, "You're so ornery. I don't think so. People would talk!" She wiggled her eyebrows back at him and then finished her plate, "That was surprisingly good. Since you got me here under false pretenses, you're going to help me bake."

"I keep telling you that I could put that bun in your oven."

"Yeah, you just keep thinking good thoughts." She took his plate from him and rinsed it. "I need two pans, one smaller than the other so that we can use it as a double boiler."

He gave her the pans and watched as she filled the larger one halfway with water, started the heat and brought it to a boil. She sat the second, empty one into the water.

"Okay, I'm doing this recipe off the top of my head. I need your measuring cups."

It took House several minutes, but he finally found them stashed deep in a cupboard. She measured out the cream, Kahlua and butter; combining them with the pound of milk chocolate in the top pan of the makeshift double boiler.

"You stir so that it doesn't burn."

"Yes, mistress."

House was impressed as he watched Mercy separate the whites of the eggs even with a cast on her arm. She nestled the bowl in between the cast and her body and, using her right hand, began to whip the whites and then fold in the sugar.

"Have you ever been married?" House asked.

She shook her head, "I lived with one guy for ten years and then I met someone else. Someone who also loved history, music and my baking. My live-in boyfriend complained about my baking all the time."

"Wait, someone complained about _your_ baking?

She gave a silly face, "Yes, he was a health nut."

"Oh Jesus Christ, you mean a, 'fruit is as close to sugar as I get' nut?"

She sighed, "Yep, that would be him."

"And you threw him over for this history buff?"

"Yeah, bad move...very bad move. The history buff turned out to be a possessive, jealous, egomaniacal bastard with a tendency to not like the fact that I hit back harder than he hit me. He gave me a black eye and bloody nose. I gave him a skull fracture and broken nose."

"So he got physical?"

"Just once – I don't do well when someone resorts to violence. I put him in the hospital and told him while he was still in the hospital that his things had been packed and were sitting in the hall of our apartment waiting for him to collect them. He wasn't too happy."

"So he's the one that broke your arm?"

She looked up at him and frowned, "It's much more complicated than that." There was silence, she took her finger and grabbed a peak of the whipped whites and dabbed House's nose. Mercy giggled at him. He took his finger and wiped the whites off his nose and tasted it. He placed his finger in the bowl and did the same to her. She crossed her eyes trying to look at the puff of whites on her nose. He reached down and licked the whites off the tip of her nose.

He wanted to kiss her lips which had a little bit of melted milk chocolate she had stolen from the molten mixture in the pan he was stirring. Mercy could see he was looking at something on her lips so she licked around her mouth, picking up the errant streak of milk chocolate.

"Ah, not fair. I was going to lick that off too." House pouted. "By the way, what are we making?"

"We're making Chocolate Mousse Domes with Chocolate Glaze. Sound okay to you?"

"Sounds great."

She motioned at the double boiler, "Hold the bowl for me over the pan."

House balanced the bowl over the pan of the melted chocolate mixture. Mercy folded the egg white mixture into the chocolate and then, with a ladle, placed the mixture into each of the cups of a biscuit pan. " Normally, we'd put the chocolate into molds, but the biscuit tin is fine." She handed him the tin full of deep, dark chocolate mounds, "Please put the pan in the refrigerator to cool." When he returned, she turned around, looking at him with a mischievous grin, "Now the glaze!"

He was amused, she seemed so happy baking. It was infectious. He felt happy too. Besides, who wouldn't? It was chocolate Nirvana.

Mercy took the chocolate, cream, and corn syrup and combined them in a pan. She put the mixture on a slow burn, gabbing as House stirred it. He picked up the spoon and took a little taste, offering the same to her. He accidently dropped some glaze onto her chin. House couldn't resist, he bent down and licked her chin and then dragged his lips up to hers. He put the spoon down and reached around her waist. This time she didn't pull back. Baking was obviously an aphrodisiac to her. He turned off the stove.

House could feel her warm skin as he moved his hands up under her sweater. The skin was smooth over the bones of her spine. He slipped his hand down the curve of the small of her back. When his tongue parted her lips he could taste the chocolate and Kahlua, feel her tongue press back against his. He kept hoping she wouldn't pull back this time.

Tired of bending his 6'3" frame to her 5'3" body, he picked her up and placed her on the block table. To House's delight, Mercy wrapped her legs around his torso and pulled him closer with her free arm. He continued rubbing her body as they kissed, her hand pulling his head into hers. He unclasped her bra and then leaned in to kiss her neck. House found the breasts he had admired in the painting. Just from touch he could tell that the painting had been accurate. They were round, high and the nipples pert. He took the left breast in his hand and fondled it, the weight of it filling his palm.

House pulled back and smiled at her, "I've been waiting for this for months."

"Waiting for what?"

"The unveiling of the coveted breasts in the painting." Just the thought made it necessary for him to adjust his levis

She laughed as he started to lift her sweater. He caught a glimpse of the bottom curve of her breast. Just as he started to reveal her nipples, they both jumped from the sound of a key in the front door. She looked at him with her eyes wide open in horror. House frowned, grabbed his cane and impatiently walked towards the living room. Mercy jumped down from the table, swiftly moving over to the stove, hoping she looked nonchalant. She danced around as she tried to hook her bra with her free arm. She turned on the stove and started stirring the glaze. She kept looking towards the living room, wondering who had arrived. House and a woman talking.

House sounded agitated, "What are you doing here?"

"You said that I should stop by when I got back in town." She protested.

"You said you'd be back Sunday afternoon."

"I was done early, so I came home today. I thought you'd be happy." There was a short pause, "There's someone here, isn't there?"

Mercy grabbed a towel and started to wipe her hands as she walked to the living room. She smiled broadly at Sheila, "Hi, oh, I remember you from Flannery's show. I'm Mercy."

Sheila looked at the painting, flashed a look of anger at House, then forcibly smiled as she shook her hand, "Sheila."

"Greg wanted to learn how to make Glazed Chocolate Mousse Mounds to surprise you with and now you've gone and ruined the surprise."

Sheila shook her head in disbelief. "Yeah, he's such a gourmet."

Mercy tilted her head, "Ah, you don't believe me." Nodding towards the kitchen she chuckled, "Come on into my domain."

Sheila followed Mercy into the kitchen and saw the dishes and pans they had been using. She saw the chocolate mixture in the pan. Once again, Mercy began to heat and stir the chocolate glaze.

Sheila looked in the pan and then at House. She threw her arms around his neck and squealed, "Oh my God, you _were_ going to treat me!"

Mercy turned around, "Greg, can you please get me the Mousse from the refrigerator?"

House grabbed the biscuit tin of chocolate mounds and handed it to her. She knocked the Mousse onto the aluminum foil she had spread on the counter. She poured the glaze over each of them and then placed the pan in the sink, ran some water and then wiped her hands.

"Well, I guess I'm done here. I'll email you the complete recipe tomorrow." She looked back and forth between them, "So...I'll be out of your hair. Bon appetite!" Mercy smiled graciously, flew out to the living room, looked up at the painting, shook her head, a sly smile forming on her lips. As she grabbed her jacket off the coat rack, she turned and saw a smiling Sheila and a disgruntled House. She chuckled and left.

Sheila went into the kitchen. House stood, staring at the ground, thinking about the turn of events and how screwed up it was.

"Oh my God!" Sheila moaned.

House came back from his thoughts and followed Sheila's voice. She was

staring at him, her face immersed in ecstasy as she bit into the Mousse.

"Honey, this is great. It's almost as good as sex. Maybe better."

House walked over and grabbed one of the delectable goodies off the aluminum foil and popped it in his mouth. He winced as if he was in pain, but in reality, the eruption of flavor was too much. It was orgasmic, the chocolate mixture mixed with the Kahlua and the corn syrup glaze was overwhelming. House looked out the kitchen door at the painting in the living room and continued, with every bite, to stare at her. It was the closest thing he could think of to having sex with her.

_If you're reading, can you please post just so I know you've caught up after I screwed up the posting of the two chapters...sorry again. As soon as I know you've caught up and are in order, I'll post chapter 6 Part 2. Thanks. Gorblimey2_


	11. Chapter 6 Part 2

CHAPTER 6 PART 2

Mercy walked through the door and laughed to herself. The turn of events had left her frustrated. It had been a long time since she had wanted sex with a specific man. What was more frustrating was that she wanted to have it with the one person she shouldn't.

_If he found out, there's no way of knowing what he would do to House or me._

Mercy went in to take a shower, but soon decided it would be easier to run a bath to accommodate her cast. She turned on her Ipod, cranked up the opera, got in and rested on the back of the tub with her arm propped up on the edge. Shampooing her hair was difficult, She let out some of the water and rinsed her hair under the spout. Once again she lay back to listen to the music. She thought about everything that had been going on in the last two and a half years . It was so overwhelming that she found herself falling down the rabbit hole. The depression, the guilt, the confusion, all the emotions of the last few years were gnawing at her. Getting out of the tub and toweling off, she went into her room and flopped on the bed, trying to forget about _him_, trying to forget about House, trying to forget about how she had arrived where she was in her life.

_What am I going to do about Greg? I saw it in his eyes. After what happened in that kitchen, he's going to come back. He wants sex as much as I do. I just wish he wanted...what am I thinking? I shouldn't wish anything except that he'd go away._

Mercy fell on the bed and looked around the room. She had been alone for more than two years. At first it had been good. She was grateful to be by herself – not to be at the beck and call of anyone. But, lately it had gotten old. Going to work, baking and coming home to an empty house was beginning to take it's toll.

She thought about the two brief weeks with Flannery. It had been fun, but he wasn't exactly talented in bed. Yet, he had other talents. He could make her laugh. He spent most his time painting while they were together. Mercy hadn't been happy when she discovered he had painted her nude, but after she saw how beautiful the painting was, she was flattered. It all came to an abrupt end when he found his next muse, a fiery redhead. Mercy didn't care, she hadn't been that invested in the relationship. She liked Flannery...a lot. But, there was no real spark for her. He had come back to her after a couple of weeks with the redhead, the focus of his next set of paintings. Flannery, crying, claimed that he wanted her back, _needed_ her back. She loved the drama of it all, but assured him he would survive without her. In fact, she introduced him to the new counter help, a sweet brown-haired girl whom he adored for a full two months until she ran off with his friend. Mercy had been grateful for Flannery and the respite from her lonely life, for the excitement, but it all soon faded. Back came the boredom and monotony of her routine.

Mercy heard something hit her bedroom window. She walked over, not expecting to find anything. Down below her window was a freezing House, wearing a ski cap, gloves and pea coat. She watched as he transferred his weight back and forth, freezing his little butt off.

Mercy went down and opened the door. "Come in! Why didn't you use the doorbell?"

"I did. I've been banging on your door for ten minutes." he stepped inside and slapped his hands together to get the snow off, looking around the whole time.

"Oh. I was in the bath. Sorry, I didn't hear you, I had the stereo on."

He looked down at her standing in her flannel pajamas. She was tiny and reminded him of a little girl getting ready for bed, "You look like a pedophile's dream. If I have sex with you in those pajamas, will I get arrested for sex with a minor?"

"Gee, since it ain't gonna happen, I don't think so."

"You mean, sex with your or arrested?"

She laughed, put her hand on his upper arm and started to open the door, "You're going home and making love to Sheila." Mercy paused, narrowing her eyes and cocking her head, "How did you ditch her?"

"I told her I needed to get that recipe."

"Come on, for real. What did you say?"

"I told her that I had asked you out for a date and that I intended to finish it."

She laughed, thinking he was joking, but when he didn't smile, her laughter died, "_You did what_? You really told her it was a date? _Are you nuts_?"

He smiled, "I haven't looked forward to something so much in years. I was having a good time, no, a _great_ time. I didn't want it to end and we both know it wouldn't have. I told Sheila before that our relationship wasn't exclusive, that I was dating others."

"It sure didn't sound like that tonight." She realized that she sounded a little bit jealous, accusatory. She stopped and thought for a moment, "Greg, it was for the best that we didn't consummate what was going on between us. It would be a huge mistake."

He shook his head and his arms flailed out. He yelled, "What is it with you? You're so cryptic. I need the decoder ring." He calmed down, "Okay, tell me why you can't date me?"

"I wish I could, but I can't. And trust me, you wouldn't want to know. Now go home." She held up the forearm that was plastered and pointed to the door.

"Come on, I'm freezing. At least give me a cup of coffee before sending me back out."

She knew he was stalling for time with her, but he did look like he was freezing. "Okay, come back to the kitchen and I'll make hot chocolate."

"Is everything chocolate with you?"

"Are you complaining?"

House thought about her long term boyfriend, the one who complained all the time about her backing. He held his hands up in surrender, "No, no complaints here."

Mercy took House back to the kitchen which was one of the largest rooms in the house. He took it all in as he took off his coat, hat and gloves. It was a very spacious country kitchen equipped with a four oven, six burner, Aga cooker and copper hood. House sat at the breakfast bar and watched as she sifted Belgian cocoa together with sugar while warming a pan of milk. She stirred in the cocoa and allowed the mixture to heat while she got a bar of chocolate from the refrigerator and shaved pieces to put on the top after first whipping up some fresh whip cream. She poured the hot cocoa, whip cream and shavings into a large mug.

House sighed, "God, if you won't marry me, can I at least chain you to my stove?"

House was pleased, not only did the cocoa look great, but the cup was large enough that he could milk it for awhile. They sat and talked for an hour about their lives, clinic duty and the different cakes that people had ordered.

She chuckled, "Ah, but my all time favorite was the woman who had one delivered to her ex-boyfriend that said, "I should have skipped right to the cigarette!"

House took advantage of their mutual laughter to put his hand on hers. She stopped laughing and looked down at his hand. Turning Mercy's hand over, he kissed the palm of it and then stood up, coming around the breakfast bar. Mercy braced herself, knowing that she was going to have a tough time turning away his advances.

House combed her hair back with his fingers and then kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose and then her lips. They both tasted like Belgium chocolate. Mercy stood up, thinking that if she jumped up quickly, she might just be able to show him out. But then he kissed her ear and tickled her earlobe with his tongue. Mercy knew the only thing she was going to be showing him was under her pajamas.

House looked frantically around and started to hobble, pulling Mercy by her hand, towards a door into a room where he saw a couch. The large, informal room had several seating areas, a plasma television, fireplace and a huge comfortable couch the curved into a chaise. House fell onto the chaise, pulling Mercy onto him.

Their arms wrapped around each other. Between the deep kissing, Mercy said, breathlessly, "Greg, this isn't going to end well."

"What, wishing you could go straight to smoking a cigarette?"

Mercy chuckled. "No, I'm just worried that..." She paused, wanting to tell him everything, but afraid that if she did, this would all come to an end. She wanted him, if only for tonight, she wanted him, "...oh, it doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

He rolled her to the side and sat up to take off his shoes. She laid still on the chaise. He frowned at her, "Get those pajamas off."

She put her hand on his chin. He dropped his trousers and started to take off his shirt when she finally sat up and pulled down her pajama bottoms. He looked down at her lovely thin ankles, toned calves and soft white thighs. Mercy pulled off her green silk panties, but he couldn't see what had been hidden by them, her pajama top was covering her down to her thighs. He stopped undressing, mesmerized by what would come next.

House grinned, "You can take the top off any time now. The unveiling of these breasts is like waiting for a glimpse of Hailey's Comet. I've been waiting a long time."

"I don't think I should do the unveiling. Why don't you do the honors?"

He grabbed the front of her flannel top and pulled her closer to him. He started at the top, the first and second button coming undone quickly. Then he slowed down, unbuttoning the third with anticipation. The top split open slightly and House took a deep breath, he could see a peak of the curve of her breasts. He wanted to reach in, touch them, caress them, but he continued to unbutton, noting that the pajama top was decorated with Moose heads and snow flakes. The fourth and last buttons were unbuttoned and the top split slightly open, revealing the inner sides of her round breasts, but not the nipples. House looked down to her belly button, to her slightly round abdomen and then the patch of dark blonde hair. He grabbed the hem of the pajama top and opened it. He took a deep breath and smiled up into her eyes.

House touched her breasts lightly, as if they were china. His touch was so soft that goose-bumps ran down Mercy's body. He kissed her mouth hungrily, then put his arm around her. He ran his long fingers down her spine to the curves of her ass. He touched her breasts again, leaning down to lick her hard, pink nipples.

She swallowed, "Well?"

He shook his head, "Oh man, well worth the wait. Come here." He pulled her over to his side, drinking in her body. The flannel top was still on, but completely open. He realized that to get it off, he'd have to help her get the sleeve over the cast. It was obviously a tight fit over the cast, so he left the top on. House ran his fingers down the front of her body, grazing her breasts and her abdomen before taking his hand and spreading her legs slightly apart. Mercy took in a deep breath, shuddering from the feel of his long, warm, fingers running over her thighs as tenderly as he could. Occasionally House would bring his hand up to the folds between her legs. He let his fingers rest gently on her folds as he kissed her, easing his tongue in and out in an erotic rhythm. The teasing between her legs and thighs went on for a few minutes while he sucked on her delicious nipples. House finally spread her folds and slowly rubbed between them until he felt her body shift to accommodate the rhythm.

House took his boxers off, reached down to his pants, took out a condom and dressed himself. "I want you on top so I can watch those breasts jiggle."

Mercy laughed at him as he turned on his back. She straddled him. With her eyes closed, concentrating on the feel of his erection, she took him in her hand and rubbed his tip against her clit over and over. There was a pleasurable aching, electrical sensation coming up from her groin. She opened her eyes and eased him slightly inside. House didn't move at first, he just held her breasts in the palms of his hands. Then he bucked, penetrating deep inside. Mercy's eyes and mouth shot open in delight. He pulled out slightly and then thrust back in. She was hot, wet, and tight.

House pulled her forward so that he could suck on her nipples. He rubbed his hand down to her ass and held on again. He thrust up and down, enjoying her body, the view of them together and the breasts that bounced lightly as bucked. His fingers dug into her ass as she rode him. She made a slight noise, a moan. "Oh God, oh God." Their eyes connected. He felt her contractions as she came. She tried to look away, slightly embarrassed that he could see the naked pleasure in her face; the uncontrolled gratification he was giving her. It was the first time he had felt a woman come while he was inside of her. It felt like ripples around his erection. Her face looked as if she was in horrible pain. It was so hot. He was aching, trying to hold back from coming. It was too hard, too uncomfortable to continue.

"Greg! Greg!" She screamed, the feeling of pure pleasure overwhelming her completely. He started thrusting even harder and quicker. She fell forward, her breasts on his chest, continuging to meet his thrusts until the waves of pleasure were gone. There was a slight tingling still present. He was so excited by her climax, the sounds, the smells that his whole mind exploded with his own orgasm. House thrust four more times deep inside of her until he was spent.

He brought her back down to the chaise and cradled her. They both smelled like sex and sweat. House's body was sensitive to every touch; he always was just after sex. She was rubbing his chest and abdomen causing him to shiver.

"Are you ticklish?"

"Post coital ticklish." he said, his eyes closed.

"I love the way you say 'post coital'."

He turned serious, "You are so beautiful. I think I'm..." He paused, unable to connect the emotions to real words. He was frightened by her. House knew that Mercy had the power to make Stacey a thing of the past. If he let himself, he could be happy around her. He backed down. He couldn't tell her what he was feeling. He wasn't even sure what he was feeling. "You have almost-perfect breasts."

She chuckled, "_Almost_?"

"They could be just a little bit bigger, a cup size bigger."

Mercy sat up on her good arm, "Then they wouldn't be so perky, would they?"

House held his head up and looked around, "Where's the bathroom? I need to pee."

"There's one through the kitchen and one by the front door and two upstairs."

"I assume the bedroom is upstairs, right?" he said standing, gazing down on her. She looked so beautiful looking up at him, her blonde hair draped against the cushion of the chaise, her breasts pointing straight up, her lips slightly parted.

"Why?"

"I'm not going back out there, it's too cold. Come on, bedtime. I'll use the bathroom upstairs."

"Damn it, Greg, this isn't a joke. Really, it's not a good idea for you to stay; you need to leave. You need to leave before..." She stopped and looked away.

"Before _he_ sees me?"

_I can't tell him. I can't tell him that this house is being watched by everyone, not just him, but everyone associated with him and what he did. And if he's not watching, he has someone watching. I don't want Greg to hate me._

"Greg, please don't ask."

"Look, I'm already here, we might as well go to bed and think about whatever it is in the morning." He nodded towards the back staircase that led up from the kitchen.

It was what Mercy really wanted, to wake up in his arms, to make love in the morning, to make him Eggs Benedict and Belgian Waffles; to eat while they read the newspaper at the table. But it would be Russian Roulette. Maybe he would be out there waiting, maybe not. And if he wasn't waiting, others would be.

She looked at him. "I want you to go home. _Please_. Go home." She buttoned her top and started to put on her panties.

"Whoa! Why are you getting dressed?"

"You're going home."

He went to the bathroom. When he came out, she was standing by the couch with his clothes and a look that told him he wasn't going to convince her to let him stay. He grabbed his clothes. put them on, leaving the house in a huff. There were no words or promises between them.

He was gone less than five minutes when there was a knock at the door. She looked through the peephole and cursed under her breath. Opening the door, she refused to let him inside. He wasn't the person she expected, but he wasn't welcomed either.

"I was passing by and saw your light on. It's awfully late for a baker isn't it? Did you have company?

She knew he had seen House leave, he was just yanking her chain, trying to make her angry so that she'd do or say something stupid.

She clenched her teeth, "Is there something you _want?"_

He smiled mischievously, "You _know_ what I want."

"Yeah, well I want to go to bed so you'll excuse me." She slammed the door, but it caught on the toe of his boot which he had stuck inside while they were talking. She looked at his boot. Her heart started to race, but she showed him no signs of fear. Instead she narrowed her eyes and her nose flared in anger. He slowly pulled his foot out of the doorway.

He whispered at her, "I'm watchin' you Mercy. If you want to confess, give me a call." He sneered and tipped his baseball hat at her.

She watched him walk down the sidewalk to his unmarked car and drive off. Mercy looked around outside. Seeing no one else, she locked the door and went upstairs, but she didn't sleep well all night.

_**(Okay, the story is almost over...please leave a review and let me know how you like it so far!) **_


	12. Chapter 7 & Epilogue

_**Dear Reader, This is the last of the story...I'm giving it to you all at once so that it doesn't ruin the fast pace of the finish. Please leave a review and let me know if you liked the ending. **_

**CHAPTER 7**

**CHECKMATE**

House wasn't going to call her...ever. He had managed to stay away from the phone for over a month, but it was a real test of his will power. He was angry that she had kicked him out without an explanation. He wanted to punish her; he wanted her to be the first to make a move.

_If she really thinks she's protecting me, she won't call. Ah, she'll give in. She has to give in. If not, I've got to figure out a way to see her. Why not just call her? Yeah, remember the last time you chased her down? She's kicked you out twice, without a single reason._

Despite his attempts to drum up images of a naked Angelina Jolie, Shiela, Honey, or even Cameron when he'd beat off, he ended up climaxing to his memory of her that night. It made him angry, but he could still feel being inside her when she had her orgasm and see her face when it traveled through her. The image that put him over the edge in the shower was always the thought of her breasts. Worse though, was that he kept going over and over their conversations, watching her bake, hearing her laugh. He missed _her._

Even now, sitting in his office in broad daylight, his body was responding to the thought of her. He shook his head in defeat, picked up the receiver, and called her cell phone. House was surprised when Mercy answered.

"Hello Greg."

He paused, waiting to make sure he said the right thing. "I want to see you." He wanted to tell her more. _I want to see you. I want to hold you. I want to be around you. I want to make you laugh. _

She lowered her voice, trying to control her emotions, "I want to see you too. I've been thinking a lot about you and I realize that you deserve an explanation. You need to know something about me; after you do, you won't want to see me. You'll be glad we're not together."

"Alright, tell me." He braced himself for the worse.

She subconsciously shook her head at the receiver, "No, I need to tell you in person. I'll be over later this afternoon. Will you be in your office?"

"If I'm not, you'll find me somewhere around here."

"Okay, I'll swing by around four."

At four House made sure he was in his office going through the latest journals. He kept looking out for her, but there wasn't any sign of Mercy. His watch said that it was 4:30 pm. House's team was next door finishing the charting on the last patient. Just when he didn't think she was going to show, he saw her walking towards his office. He felt his heart quicken, happy to see her push through the glass door. He quickly wiped the smile off his face when he saw how desperately unhappy she looked.

She smiled and sat down. He noticed that the cast was gone, "Hi."

He said nothing.

She couldn't look him in the eye. She looked around and then down at her shoes. "Greg, I'm not going to waste anymore of your time." She looked up into his eyes, hers brimming with tears, "My ex-boyfriend lives in France. He didn't break my arm."

Now he was curious. He leaned back, "Who did?"

"I need to tell you a little bit of history." She squirmed, leaning an elbow on the arm of the chair and resting her forehead on it. "Two years ago my brother's wife died. When she did, my brother went into a tailspin, not focusing on his company, not caring about the bakery, drinking, partying and eventually gambling. When he got in too deep with the gambling, he sold me his half of the bakery for half its worth just so he could pay back his bookie. Instead of learning a lesson, he got in deeper. The guy who broke my arm the other night was a collector, trying to send my brother a message to pay up."

"But it's not your debt." House was puzzled, but then he nodded, "Ah, I get it. Your brother skipped town and they were hoping you'd know where he was." He looked for some reaction.

She nodded. "Yes, they want to know where he is. But, there's more. My brother is even worse than before. He's really lost it. He was the one who had the painting destroyed. He thinks that, if he couldn't protect his wife, he has to at least protect me. But in his mind, he's failed. He doesn't think he's protected me from his bookies, you, from Flannery, from the horrible people in the world that he thinks are taking advantage of me."

A lightbulb came on, "Oh, I see. You're in contact, so you _do know _where he's at."

She held up a hand to stop him, "There's more. The police are also looking for my brother."

"Because of the gambling? The mob?"

She shook her head, looking down at her shoes, letting out a huge sigh.

"Why?"

"He shot a man."

"His bookie?"

"No. He shot a _good guy_. I felt horrible about it. I didn't understand why he did it, until I finally realized he'd had a psychotic break. The man he shot hadn't really been responsible for his wife's death, but he kept blaming him. I should have warned the man when my brother kept threatening to do it, but I didn't really think he would go through with it. But, he did. My brother's not really a criminal, he's just very sick." She was crying, tears flooding down her cheeks. "I kept having nightmares about the shooting, about the man he shot. I felt so guilt, so I..." She paused, unable to go on.

House leaned forward, "You did what?"

She looked up at House, "I started sending the man birthday cakes and cakes at holidays. I wanted him to know that I wasn't my brother, that I was so sorry for what had happened."

The color drained out of House's face, he started to shake his head slightly in disbelief, "You...you can't be ... you're Moriarty's sister?"

"James Moriarty is my brother. I kept my mother's name, the name of the bakery. The female line in my family does."

House stood up, shaking with anger, "You knew your brother wanted to shoot me? You know where he is now and you think cakes can make it all better?"

"No. I know now how absurd it was. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner. And, I know he's in Jersey, but he's moves around. I don't really know where he is right now." She looked at him, wiping the tears. "Well, now you know. It's not my old boyfriend watching me; it's the mob, the police, my brother...I'm mostly afraid of my brother. If he finds out that I've slept with you, that I have feelings for you..."

"Feelings?" he snickered, "What, you felt obliged to fill the holes your brother put in me with chocolate Kahlua glaze? I don't believe for one minute that you have real feelings for me. I don't need your guilt or your pity." He walked to the side of the office by the x-ray back-light.

"Greg, I feel more than that for you. But, now you can see why we can't be together. My brother knows something, he left a message yesterday, he was talking so fast it sounded like jibberish. I couldn't understand it. I came to explain why we can't be together."

His voice was angry, sarcastic, "No great loss is it?"

House looked up and saw a figure walking quickly towards his office. He jumped towards the phone to call security. Mercy looked behind her just in time to see her brother walk through the door. His eyes were darting around, unable to fix on any one thing in the room. He had a hand gun and was shaking.

Mercy jumped up, "_No! James, no!"_

Moriarty was sweating, clearly angry and confused, not calm like he had been the last time he had confronted House with a gun. With his nostrils flaring and his chest heaving he motioned with the gun, "Put the phone down or I shoot her." He aimed the revolver at his sister.

House didn't put the phone down, but he didn't dial either. He saw his team freeze next door. Chris Taub secretly pulled out a cell phone and calmly dialed 911. He didn't dare put it up to his ear or Moriarty would see him. He simply kept the connection open. The team couldn't hear much coming from House's office, but they could see the woman with House was being threatened with a gun.

House said with disgust, "You're not going to shoot your own sister."

Moriarty screamed, "How do you know? She's a disappointment. I know she's sleeping with you, I saw you at her house! I've been following her, waiting for when I'd find the two of you together. I wanted you to see what you've done to me. What you've turned me into." He turned to Mercy, "How could you sleep with this scum? Don't you care how I feel?"

"Yes, of course I care how you feel, but you don't understand James, I can't let you hurt him. Please, I beg of you, don't hurt him again."

"Yeah, I trusted you and look what happened, you start screwing the man who killed Melanie."

House yelled at him, "I didn't kill your wife. Your wife's disease was too far along for me to help her –"

"Greg, no! Don't upset him–" Mercy could see that her brother wasn't in touch with reality, that House was driving him crazy.

But House couldn't shut up, "_If_ _you had paid more attention to her, to what she was saying, instead of blowing your money on horses_, you would have known she was ill long before she came in to see me."

Moriarty shook his head, "You sshole, _you're the doctor_. You should have cured her." There was an abrupt change in Moriarty's demeanor; he smiled. He seemed calm, as calm as he was when he shot House the first time. He slowly turned the gun from Mercy to House. She could see his finger start to pull the trigger. She looked at House just standing there, waiting. She threw herself in front of House, heard several pops and felt the hot metal pierce her back and her arm. A shot rang through the glass in the door, behind her brother. Moriarty stumbled forward. As Mercy fell into House, sliding down, she looked up into his eyes, begging for his forgiveness.

House was speechless, stunned. He watched her crumble to the floor, her brother already resting at her feet. The team burst through the door and started to work on Mercy. House looked at his shirt and saw that it was covered in her blood. He backed up against the credenza, looking down at the small bleeding woman at his feet. He was unable to fully appreciate what had just happened.

"House! House!" Cameron yelled as she shook him. "Are you okay? Is any of that blood yours?"

House stared at her, then blinked. Glancing down at his clothes, he shook his head. He whispered, "Mercy."

"Mercy? You don't need to ask for Mercy, Moriarty is going to prison now. He won't be able to touch you anymore."

House came out of his stupor, "No! I mean Mercy. Is she okay?"

"Oh, is that the name of the woman?" They both stared at Mercy as the doctors tried to perform triage. Cameron said softly, "I don't know, it looks bad. Moriarty is still alive, but he has a gun shot to the stomach, pretty painful."

"Good." House spat.

Moriarty looked up at House, "It should have been you. Why did she do it? Why protect you? I never meant to hurt her. She's never hurt anyone. She deserves better than _you_." He took a deep breath. He started screaming in pain when they lifted him on a gurney and rolled him off to surgery.

House bent down and kneeled next to Mercy. Her eyes were closed and he couldn't hear any breathing. "Does she have a pulse?" He asked the team.

Chris nodded, "Yeah, we have a pulse, but it's thready. She's got to get to surgery."

House started screaming, "Jesus Christ, get her to surgery, now!"

No one was really listening to House, they were already preparing to take Mercy away, they just had to get her brother's gurney out the door before they could take her too. Cameron and House watched as they started running with Mercy's gurney towards the elevator.

"Let me check you over." Cameron pushed him back to the desk. He sat down on it and let her examine him. Cuddy came running in past the police who were now milling around taking statements and measurements.

"House, are you okay?"

He nodded, "Mercy took the bullets."

"Mercy? The baker?"

"Yes. But why, why would she do that?"

One of the cops, a thin dark haired man in a ball cap and round toed boots, spoke up, "Well, the little bitch had it coming, she's been protecting her brother all this time. It was about time she found out that what she was doing would end badly."

House jumped to his feet, his fist flying through the air, landing on the detective's jaw before anyone saw it coming. The detective was flattened. He looked up from the floor as Chris, Cuddy and Cameron held House back.

House tried to kick him, "You son of a b!tch. She almost got killed protecting me. _You're talking about the woman I love_."

Cameron and Cuddy looked at each other, their eyes wide and mouths open in shock. They all pulled House into the side office and pushed him down into a chair.

He tried to calm his breathing, "Which operating room is she in?"

Cuddy shrugged, "I don't know, but I'll find out."

Several hours later, a very irate detective had been convinced by all involved that his comments had been out of line and in light of what Dr. House had been through, an assault charge probably wouldn't get too far in the system. House watched from the observatory as Mercy's vitals began to fade on the operating table. Cuddy and Cameron sat on either side of him patting his arm and leg from time to time. Wilson finally arrived back from a seminar in Philadelphia and made his way to the observation room.

"House, how is she?" Wilson asked.

House jumped up, "They're losing her." He grabbed his cane and hobbled down to surgery. Without scrubbing, he grabbed a mask and burst inside.

Chase yelled at him, "_House get out of here, you're not sterile_."

House said nothing back as he rushed straight over to Mercy. Holding the mask up to his face he leaned down to her ears. "Mercy, you can't do this to me. I finally found the best breasts in America and now you're giving up? Come on, we've got a lot of fighting to do between us. Don't give up. I do want you around. I don't want it to end, do you understand?"

Chase, who was busy trying to save her, sighed, "For God's sake House, tell her you love her and get your a$s out of here."

House looked at Chase in shock and then nodded. He looked down at her pale face and choked, "Mercy, I love you. Don't give up. _Please_." He stood up and walked out of the door, throwing the mask away and walking back to his office where he waited for Chase to tell him the news.

Chase was still in his scrubs, covered with blood. He walked into House's office, his hands on his hips, "She's lost a lot of blood and we had to remove her spleen, I managed to get all the bleeders sewn up. If she doesn't get an infection, she might just pull through. I'll keep you updated." He turned to go, but then faced House and gently said, "You can see her if you want." Then he pushed the door open. Once again he turned back to House, "Oh by the way, her brother died."

House nodded and stood up fast. He was wobbly from all the drama. He grabbed his cane and walked quickly to recovery. She was hooked up to saline, antibiotics and a unit of blood. Her eyes were sunken, her lips white and crusted, her hair matted. Her skin was translucent. He picked up her hand and stroked it."I'm here Mercy, I'm here." He was staring into space when he felt it, the faint squeeze of her hand in his. He snorted, looked up to the ceiling with relief and swallowed. He tried to speak but his throat closed down. His voice came out strained and worried, "Ah, thank God. I was wondering who was going to bake my birthday cake."

The End

**Epilogue**

"You've put on weight." Cuddy said smiling at him.

He sneered at her, "You try living with a woman who creates Nirvana out of sugar and chocolate. Every night she makes me try a new recipe, each one better than the night before. I've gained ten pounds in the last month."

"Oh, let me get out my violin. You're lucky a woman wants to live with you. I have serious concerns about her mental stability."

"It's all that sugar, it's gone to her head...thank God. If it weren't for the Twinkie effect, I don't think we'd be together." House said.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I like Mercy, but does she really know what she's doing?"

"I can vouch for the fact that she knows what she's doing. Have you ever had chocolate fraiche glaze poured all over your body and then licked off?"

Cuddy held a hand up to stop him.

House guffawed, "Well, you wanted to know why I was gaining weight."

"House! Just shut up." They got onto the elevator. "How is she feeling?"

"We compare wounds every once in awhile, but otherwise she's in good shape..._very good shape."_

"So I guess she'll bake the cake for the wedding?"

"She's already designing it."

"House, you're spoilt."

"I guess you might say that by marrying a baker I can have my cake and eat it too."


End file.
